Silver Bells
by SpiderSable
Summary: 'Twas the night before Christmas... And Peter Parker (aka, Spider-Man) was going about his usual, unexciting holiday business. That is, until, Silver Sable comes barreling into his life once again. She has sought out Peter to take part in a mission that will put both of them in immense danger. Will Peter survive this holiday season? Better yet, will he survive one night with Sable?
1. Prologue

(The following takes place one year after the events of Spider-Man (PS4), including the events of the DLC)

 **1\. PROLOGUE**

 **New York. December 23, 2019.**

 _It's the most wonderful time of the year._

Or so they say. But to many, the holidays are less a time of harmony, charity, and good will towards men, and more like a yearly punch to the stomach. Yes, seasonal depression hits many fine New Yorkers. And Peter Parker (Age 24) was no exception. The last time Peter remembered enjoying the Christmas season was back when his Uncle Ben was still alive. Every holiday after felt like a game in which him and May try to ignore the hole in their family that he had left behind. Flash-forward to this year, and Peter was now in an even worse spot. Aunt May was gone. Hopefully, Peter imagined, she was spending her holiday with Ben somewhere. But that wishful thinking did not help Peter's depression. It did not help that even his surrogate family had left his side.

Doctor Octavius had betrayed Peter's trust. Months out from when he was expected to return, Harry was still being treated for his disease. And MJ… well, her articles about the Symkarian revolution were incredible. Suddenly, the Daily Bugle's impression of her went from "nosy kid in over her head" to "up-and-coming, world renowned field journalist." Peter was so proud, but he also knew what was coming next. Assignment after assignment. MJ leaving for long stretches out of the year. Going to dangerous places and unable to contact Peter. Breaking up was not the ideal option… but Peter knew that he could never pry himself away from his life as the protector of New York City, nor could he ask MJ to put her career aspirations on the back-burner for the sake of their relationship. And so, amicably, with many tears shed… the two ended their pairing.

With all these terrible things falling onto Peter's shoulders, one after the other, after the other… you'd think he'd be ready to take a bubble bath with a toaster. But, to the benefit of the city he protected, that was not Peter Parker. He took all these events in stride. As always, looking forward to a better future. Plus, he wasn't completely alone. In times of duress, Peter knew that there were still people in this city looking out for him. There was Miles, his brilliant protégé and trusted friend. Not to mention his old roommate Randy Robertson and former classmate Flash Thompson. Plus, he could always depend on his old gang at the Bugle for support: Robby, Betty, Eddie, and Ned. And Felicia was always out there, watching his back when he needed it most. Though he was alone this holiday season, he knew that, in a pinch, any of his friends would be willing to be with him on Christmas Day. What he didn't know was… He was going to be spending the holiday with someone he thought long gone from his life…

 **On December 23** **rd** **, 2019… Silver Sablinova returned to New York City.**


	2. Surprise!

**2\. SURPRISE!**

 **Queens, New York. December 23** **rd** **, 2019 - 10:47 PM.**

"This is the worst!" Miles exclaimed, glaring down at the newspaper crumpled up in his hand.  
"Come on. It's not that bad," retorted Peter.  
"Not that bad? _Kid Arachnid?!_ Are they serious?!"  
"I don't know. I think it has kind of a nice ring to it."

Miles looked to Peter, his mouth agape as he stared down his crime-fighting partner. The two were walking on the sidewalk, towards Peter's apartment. It was a cold night, both men bundled up in layers as the made their way down the streets of Queens, shoulder to shoulder. In Miles's grasp was an article from the Daily Bugle. On the front page, the Bugle had finally put in their two cents for naming the new spider themed hero. Peter thought it was a clever name. Miles, however…

"It's so stupid! _Kid Arachnid?!_ Why would they even think I'm a kid?" he chortled.  
"Well, you are shorter than me…"  
"Yeah!" Miles snapped back at Peter. "By like two inches! This is ridiculous!"  
"Oh, come on, man. It could be worse," Peter exclaimed.  
"Uh huh. How?"  
"Well, they could have called you Spider-Boy," he explained with a shrug. "Or even worse… Spider-Lad."  
" _Spider-Lad?_ " Miles repeated, letting out a small chuckle.  
"See. Worse!"

Miles shook his head, crumpling up the paper and tossing it in a trashcan as the two passed by. He put his hands in his pocket, looking down at the ground.

"I don't know, man. It seems… condescending. You know? Can't they just call me Spider-Man too? I mean, that's what I am. That's what we are! The Spider-Men."  
" _The Spider-Men_ , huh? We sound like a garage band."

Miles rolled his eyes at Peter, looking to him again with frustration. Peter looked back, smirking.

"Miles, look… the important part of the job isn't… brand management. Okay? That article also mentioned how you saved that entire bus full of people from getting run down. And the writer actually gave you kudos for your saving lives! Back in my day… I would have been blamed for interfering with police work. Or… for not stopping the car sooner. Or… for high gas prices or… whatever Jameson claimed was my fault that week," Peter laughed. "The point is, they acknowledged that you did good. So, who cares what goofy name they give you?"

Miles nodded, giving Peter a crooked smile. Once again, Peter was right. It did feel good to be appreciated.

"I guess that's a good point. Plus, they also said my red and black suit is cool."  
"Yes, they did! See! Silver lining."  
"Yeah," Miles replied, before taking a short pause. "Now, can we talk about how you just used the phrase " _back in my day?_ " Miles teased.

Peter shook his head, now rolling his eyes right back at Miles.

"Hey! Don't laugh, Gen Z! You'll be there someday too."

Miles and Peter shared another laugh between them. Though their partnership had started of rocky, the two had become quick friends. Just as Peter had helped Miles when his father passed, Miles now served as a beacon of hope for Peter. Not only as a protégé and partner, but also as a possible escape from his current life. Though Peter would never admit this, when he was alone, he considered the possibility of giving up his life as Spider-Man. Passing the torch to Miles and finally settling down. Maybe finding a lifelong career. Maybe buying a house. Maybe a wife. Maybe even a kid. But, for the time being, he kept those thoughts far, far away. For right now, Miles had a lot to learn… and New York still needed a Spider-Man.

In time, Miles and Peter soon arrived at the front door of Peter's apartment complex. Peter approached the door before turning back to Miles.

"You sure you can swing home by yourself?"  
"Yeah, of course," Miles nodded feverishly. "I'm really good at swinging now, Peter."  
"Really? So, when you smacked into that billboard yesterday…?"  
"Landed!" Miles corrected. "I landed on that billboard."  
"Face first?"

Miles gave Peter the finger, prompting another chuckle from him.

"Well, sorry!" Peter smirked. "Good night, Kid Arachnid!"  
"Night!"

Miles began his trek home, until he suddenly remembered something important and turned on his heel.

"Peter, wait!"  
"Yeah?" Peter said, looking over his shoulder.  
"I almost forgot to ask but… Do you want to come over Wednesday? You know, for Christmas?"  
"Oh, well… uh…" Peter hesitated.  
"Oh, wait! Do you even celebrate Christmas? Are you Jewish? I feel like maybe you told me you were Jewish," Miles babbled.  
"Heh, I am. On my mother's side. But… that never stopped me from celebrating Christmas."  
"Cool! So, you wanna come? My mom is a great cook. And my Uncle Aaron makes some _good_ flan."  
"Honestly, Miles… I was thinking of just… patrolling that night."  
"Yeah, I figured you would say that," Miles nodded.  
"It's just… businesses are closed so… a lot of B&E's tend to happen on Christmas."  
"Bacon and eggs?"  
"Breaking and entering."  
"Ahh! Yeah! That makes more sense," Miles nods again. He pauses. "Well, look, if you have time to stop by… the door is open. I mean, my mom said you're basically part of the family."

Peter gave him a polite smile, acknowledging the sentiment behind those words. However, he knew deep down that _that word_ brought out a much different reaction in him now. Family. That word bothered him to his very core.

"Thanks, Miles. And tell your mom I said thanks too," he replied cheerfully.  
"No problem. So, I guess I'll see you tomorrow."  
"Tomorrow?"  
"At F.E.A.S.T. … You're volunteering tomorrow, right?"  
"Oh, yeah! That!" he quickly responded. Again, very cheerful. "Yeah, I'll be there. Of course!"  
"Alright, cool. Well, goodnight, Peter!"  
"Yeah. Night, Miles!"

Miles walked off and Peter clicked the apartment buzzer. He made his way inside, making his long hike up the building's stairs. As he did, Peter ruminated on Miles's invitation… and why it had bothered him so much. He figured maybe it was because Peter, in technical terms, really had no family left to speak of. He had his friends, he had F.E.A.S.T., and he had his job. But family… No. Peter was fresh out of that. These thoughts exhausted Peter. Not only was he feeling alone… but he also hated himself for feeling alone. In typical Parker fashion, he gaslit himself into believing his problems were not big enough to warrant thinking about. There were people suffering far more than him. And he had no time for weeping when there were so many people that needed his help. Peter Parker… ever the martyr.

Peter finally came to the door of his apartment. At one time, he and MJ had shared the space. Now that she was gone, he was the sole tenant. Which of course meant that keeping up on rent was far harder. Unlike his last place though, Peter swore he would not allow himself to be evicted from this apartment. Because, after all, what if MJ came back? What if she quit her high-profile career? And what if she came back to New York? And what if they started dating again? And what if she moved back in with Peter!? And what if they got married!? And what if-…!?

Peter stopped before he could allow himself to imagine that "perfect future" again. He came back to reality, placing his key in the lock and stepping inside.

He let out a long, hearty yawn as he closed the door behind him. He peeled his jacket off, throwing it over a chair as he slumped through his apartment. With the big winter coat removed, Peter was now dressed in a plain blue hoodie, with a white ESU shirt underneath and a pair of navy jeans. He kicked off his brown sneakers as he began thinking to himself about holiday matters.

" _A lot to do," he thought to himself. "I should still get a gift for Miles… Maybe a card for his Mom… am I exchanging with Robby this year…?"_

Suddenly, he felt it. That familiar tingling in his head. In an instant, Peter took a defensive stance, quickly checking his surroundings. His eyes darted around his dark apartment, as he stood perfectly in place. That was when he heard a noise. It sounded like a drawer opening in his bedroom. Quickly, Peter reached for the backpack hung up on his front door. Without time to spare, he pulled his mask over his head and locked the web shooters to his wrists. He then slinked toward the bedroom, noticing that the door was open. He peeked in quietly to see a figure in the dark; a slender hand reaching into the drawer on his nightstand. The white lenses of his mask folded into a squint as he aimed his weapon at the intruder. With on speedy click of the button, he shot a layer of web onto the intruder's hand, sticking them to the nightstand. The intruder calmly looked up at Peter.

"Seriously? Who breaks into someone's apartment on the Eve of Christmas Eve? Where's your retroactive holiday spirit?" Peter quipped, moving forward slowly.

The figure said nothing. Instead, they just leaned backward reaching for the light switch on the wall.

"As per usual, Spider-Man," a dry voice spoke to him. Peter detected a vaguely foreign dialect. "…your witticisms are tiring and pedantic."

The white lenses fell open as Peter heard the familiar voice. The figure flicked the switch on the wall, illuminating Peter's bedroom and revealing his night time visitor. She had long, silver hair that was currently tied behind her in a tight ponytail. She wore a silver coat that hung to the floor. Beneath it she wore a white, long sleeve shirt, grey pants, and white combat boots. She stared over at Peter with a half-smile, somewhat enjoying the shocked expression displayed on his mask.

"Surprised?" she asked.  
"Sable? What are you-? Why…?" Peter stuttered over his words.

Sable then removed a knife from her coat pocket, using it to slice quickly at the webs, releasing her hand from the bond. She then tucked her knife back into her pocket, moving towards Peter with an intense gaze.

"Just this once, I will forgive you for using your weapon on me. But, with the condition that you listen to all I am about to say, without asking stupid questions."

Silver marched forward, pushing passed Peter as she made her way into the living room. She removed her coat, throwing it onto the nearby chair; on top of his own coat.

"Sable? Why are you back in New York?!" he asked, finally over his shock.

Sable looked over her shoulder, giving him an exasperated look as she crossed her arms.

"What did I just say?" she retorted, turning to face him. "I am here because I am needed. And so are you. Something terrible is about to strike your city. And I need your help Spider-Man."

There was a pause. Sable's lips curled into a smile.

"Or would you prefer I call you Peter?"


	3. The Proposal

**3\. THE PROPOSAL**

 **Queens, New York. December 23** **rd** **, 2019 - 11:13 PM.**

" _She said your name!" Peter thought to himself, now panicking. "You can't have another person who knows your secret identity. Gotta think of a lie fast to throw her off the trail."_

"… My name is not Peter," he mumbled.

" _Brilliant…"_

A tired sigh was all Sable could muster in response. She stood up straight, staring at Peter with her arms crossed and her eyes narrowed.

"Mr. Parker, I beg you… Please, do not try to lie to me," she scoffed. "At this point, it's just sad."

Peter couldn't help but agree. Sable was a lot of things, but she wasn't stupid. And now that she was standing in his apartment, there was no way for him to deny his identity. He let out a defeated breath before reaching up and pulling the mask from his head. He looked at her with tired brown eyes, his hair an unruly mess. He let his arms fall to their sides, standing in a pose that looked very relaxed; especially compared to Sable's power posture.

"How long have you known?" he questioned, immediately.  
"Since the last time I was in New York," she answered.  
"You've known for almost a year!? How did you find out!?"  
"Remember that tracer I placed on your suit after we first confronted Hammerhead?"  
"Yeah…"  
"Well, after we defeated him, I placed another one on your back."

Peter lifted his arms in a shrugging pose, a confused look across his face.

"Why?!" he asked, almost shouting.  
"I thought it would be in my best interest to know who you were under the mask. So, before I left the city, I traced you back to this building and to this apartment number. I looked up the tenants of this room, saw two names, and… well, took an educated guess that the Spider-Man's true identity was not Mary Jane Watson."

Peter had his arms crossed now, his eyebrows furrowed. She could tell that Peter was somewhat offended by her actions. Unfortunately, Sable didn't particularly care.

"I can't believe you," he said. "I mean, you could have just asked for my real name!"  
"I didn't trust you to tell me the truth."  
"Well, I trusted you!"  
"That was your first mistake."

Peter opened his mouth, but no words came out. He decided that debating this any further would just be wasted air. Sable felt the same and decided to let the topic die. She then made her way over to the loveseat in Peter's living room, sitting down with her back arched, her elbows on her knees, and her hands folded. She looked up at Peter.

"Now, if we are done catching up… I'd like to talk about the reason I'm here."  
"Yeah, sure," Peter joked. "Just right back to business, huh? After betraying my trust, breaking into my apartment… wearing boots on my carpet."  
"I thought you'd be thankful. If I recall, you did not appreciate my more… brash methods of contacting you."  
"Well," Peter nodded. "it is nice that you're not holding me at gunpoint for once."  
"Just sit down," she commanded.

Peter begrudgingly walked over to the couch. He sat on the edge, his back straight and his arm on the arm rest. He crossed one leg over the other. He peered over at Sable, giving her a defeated look.

"Fine. What's going on?"

Sable nodded, reaching into her back pocket and pulling out a small, disk-shaped object. It was silver and looked to be made out of the same metals used for the rest of _Sable International's_ equipment; it even had the 'S' printed on the side. She placed it on the coffee table in front of them and clicked a small button on the device. Suddenly, a blue screen projected out of the disk. The screen appeared to be a file select menu, indicating that the device was some sort of storage drive for top secret information. Peter looked with interest, before looking back at Sable.

"Listen carefully," she explained, looking back. She then reached forward, pressing her finger to the screen projection and opening up a file listed as _Symkarian Anti-Revolutionary Protocols._

"As you know, for the last two decades, my country has been torn apart by a vicious dictator," she explained.  
"Yeah, I heard," he replied. "I also heard that you were leading the charge to change things. Congratulations."  
"I don't want congratulations until my people are safe! Now, be quiet," she snapped.  
"Alright then," he mumbled, awkwardly.

Sable clicked another button on the screen. It began to cycle through different weapons blueprints and battle strategies.

"As time has passed, and the revolutionary forces have become stronger and more coordinated, the government has been forced to create new, destructive devices of war in order to crush our side. In their experimentation, their scientists managed to create a weapon so powerful, that it would be impossible for them to use it without destroying themselves."

Sable reached forward and clicked open another file. It was an entire screen dedicated to a single device. At the top of the screen it read, _"EXS-2808."_ Below the title there was a detailed picture of the device. It was a boring design for a super weapon; looking like a big metal box with four large metal cylinders on all four ends. At the bottom of all four cylinders was a forked bottom. From what Peter could tell, the pointed edges were made to pierce the ground; with an extending shaft that could dig down about 90 feet underground. The schematics claimed that the device was 915 pounds, about 12 feet long, and 9 feet wide. Peter leaned in closer, taking in the long list of materials used to create the device.

"Whoa," he whispered. "Vibranium plating… Vibro-shock units?"

Peter was perplexed to say the least. He recognized some of the technology from when he studied Herman Schultz's "Shocker suit" a few years back. And although the device could do things similar to Schultz's tech, he noticed that it was on a far wider scale. The more he read, the more it scared him.

"Sable, am I reading this right? According to these blueprints, this weapon could cause earthquakes. Like… _really big_ earthquakes. Turning this thing on for five seconds could cause this whole island to sink into the ocean! Hell, it could probably take a quarter of New Jersey with it!"

"Correct," she responded, looking deadly serious. "Which is why the Symkarian government opted not to ever use the device. It was originally designed as a way to destroy rebel bases, armories, and medical centers. But even the government realized that the magnitude of the device's reach was too much of a gamble. There is nowhere in Symkaria they could set it off where they would be safe."

"Well, that's good," Peter nodded, before looking directly at Sable. "So, you're here to tell me that when they figured that out… they promptly dismantled the device and now there's no chance of it hurting anyone ever?" Peter asked hopefully, his voice getting higher as he reached the end of his question.

Sable just stared at him for a moment, raising one eyebrow; her lips crooked.

"Yeah, yeah. I know. Wishful thinking," he said with a sigh.  
"Unfortunately, the government decided they had sunk too much into the project to not get any benefit out of it. So, they sold it to a high-profile mob boss that lives in this city. And tomorrow night, that same mob boss is selling the device off _again_ at a weapons auction. Meaning that the device will most likely end up in the hands of some super criminal who doesn't know what it is capable of."  
"And then they'll end up accidentally destroying the city when they use it to tear down a bank vault, or something…"  
"Exactly my thought," Sable replied, looking back to the screen.  
"And god bless us everyone…" He muttered to himself.

Peter leaned his head back in his chair, taking a moment to breathe as he stared up at the wall. After a moment, he leaned forward once again; facing the screen. He let his hands fall onto his knees as he held himself up.

"Okay then… Who's throwing the weapons auction?" Peter asked, confirming that he was more than willing to join Sable's mission.

A small smile played on Sable's lips. She enjoyed seeing him so focused and willing to save people. She let the smile fade quickly, turning back to the screen and clicking another button.

"This is the man throwing the auction. His name is Fredrick Foswell. But, in criminal circles he is called- "  
"The Big Man," Peter interrupted. "Yeah, I tangled with him a couple of times. Used to be the second biggest kingpin in town; besides, well… Kingpin. Lately though, he's been trying to go straight. Using mostly legitimate business tactics. He only dips back into criminal behavior when he thinks it's going to lead to a really big score."  
"He is planning on selling the device for far more than what he paid for it."  
"Uh huh," Peter nods. "And what did he pay for it, exactly?"  
"2.6 Million dollars," she replied, dryly.  
"Holy f***ing s**t!"

Sable turned to Peter, an eyebrow raised.

"Sorry, it's just... That is… a lot of money," Peter blurted out. "Does Big Man really think that mob families have millions to spend on doomsday devices?"  
"Except it is not just mob families. Foswell has invited criminals from all over the world. Some of which have vast criminal empires that reach several countries," she scoffs. "You'd be surprised how many billionaires are criminals."  
"Well," Peter sulks, "there goes the last tiny thread of hope I had for humanity."

"From what I've read, Foswell has put several cheaper weapons up for auction as well, which will attract the local crime professionals… while the _EXS-2808_ will serve as the big ticket item for his international guests," she explained before reaching forward and flicking the button on the metal disk; turning off the screen projection.

Peter nodded again. He then stood up from his chair, moving slowly into the center of the room as he thought to himself.

"That's a lot to take in," he muttered. "Okay! We need a plan."  
"I have a plan," she interjected. "We show up at the weapons auction, we take no prisoners, and then we take the weapon. You can take the weapon, correct? How much can you lift exactly?"

Silver stood to her feet as well, staring Peter down. He looked back to her with an awkward smirk.

"Yeah, as much as I love the… _guns-a-blazin_ ' approach… I'm sorry to say, that plan won't work."  
"Why not?"  
"Well, first off… crashing a party where the guest list is exclusively super-criminals… seems like a good way to get yourself shot; even with our experience. Second, and I hate to tell you this but, the _EXS-2808_ is **not** gonna be at that auction."

Silver paused, her arms crossed in front of her once again. She leaned forward a bit, confused but intrigued.

"Explain," she snapped.  
"Like I said, I've dealt with Big Man a couple of times. And he has thrown a _lot_ of illegal weapons auctions. Thus, I have _crashed_ a lot of his weapons auctions. So many that he started to expect my arrival and stopped taking the actual weapons to the events. Now he just shows the bidders a picture of the device and gives them a description of what it can do."  
"And how do the bidders get their lot?"  
"Simple. He just goes up to them after the event and tells them where and how to pick it up. It usually involves guarded bases or money drop-offs," Peter explained.

Silver thought for a moment, placing her hand behind her neck as she sorted a plan out in her head.

"I guess we could kidnap Foswell and then get him to spill the location. Then again, I'm not too good with interrogation mode…"

Sable somewhat listened to Peter, but then dropped her arm as she came up with an idea of her own.

"Or, we could take a more direct approach."  
"Meaning?"  
"We could purchase the lot. And then have Foswell tell us the location, willingly."  
"Okay," Peter responded in a low voice. "I mean… I don't know about you but… I don't have 3 Million dollars."  
"Neither do I. But I can fake affluence very well. You and I could pose as two super-criminals attending the auction. I will bid on the device, win the device, and Foswell will lead us directly to it."  
"Hmm…" Peter pondered the idea. "I guess it would be a way of finding the location without having to cause any damage. And it'd be way easier than trying to beat the info out of Big Man."

Peter considered the idea fully, and then chuckled to himself, walking up to Silver with a determined, yet still somewhat hesitant, expression.

"Alright. If you can get us into that event, I'm game."  
"Good. I will pick out aliases for us to work under," she nodded, pushing passed him once again. "I will call you tomorrow," she continued. "And we will meet in person before the event to plan accordingly and get our stories straight."  
"Sounds good to me. Honestly, I've never been part of an infiltration mission before. Sounds like fun."

Sable grabbed her coat off of the chair. She turned back to Peter, letting out a small breath as she gave him a judging look.

"Fun. Right?" she hissed, putting her jacket back on before turning to fully face him.  
"Oh, come on! It's okay to get excited. I mean, we're working together again. Don't pretend like you're not psyched to be a team again."

Sable looked Parker up and down. His hands were in his pockets now, and he smiled at her with a look in his eyes that betrayed nothing but optimism and genuine trust. Sable considered returning the smile, but only wore a look of ambivalence as her blue eyes stared with their usual intensity. She turned on her heel, reaching for his front door.

"We will be in contact," she said.  
"Yeah, okay," he stuttered. "See you tomorrow then. And uh…"

Peter raised one hand, waving her goodbye. Silver exited the room quickly, leaving Peter standing in the middle of the living room with a faded smirk.

"Thanks for… stopping by," he mumbled.


	4. Here to Help

**4\. HERE TO HELP**

 **Chinatown, New York. December 24** **th** **, 2019 – 10:21 AM.**

 _Chop! Chop! Chop!_

Peter's knife lightly banged against the cutting board as he sliced the carrot into pieces. When the entire length of carrot was cut, he lifted the cutting board and tipped it over into a bowl, letting the pieces fall in with the rest of the salad. He glanced to his left, noticing that there were a lot more vegetables to go. He sighed, grabbing a celery stalk and placing it on his cutting board. He began to slice away once again. Sure, the work was mindless, but you could say the same for every job at F.E.A.S.T. Sometimes, helping people wasn't exciting or death-defying. Sometimes, helping someone meant mopping up a coffee spill… or taking out the trash. Peter learned very early on that even the most miniscule of jobs have value. Like May once said… _"If you help someone, you help everyone."_ And Peter internalized that motto so intensly… that he never saw any job at F.E.A.S.T. as boring or insignificant. To him, each one was vitally important and extremely rewarding. Knowing that doing his job well could mean making life just a little bit easier for someone at the shelter… filled Peter with a sense of pride and genuine satisfaction. But unfortunately, today he was feeling off.

Peter had rolled into F.E.A.S.T. at 8 AM sharp. From the moment he arrived, it felt as though he was just going through the motions. He did his usual chores, tidied up where he could, and he participated in small talk with Gloria, Ernie, and the rest of the regulars. But he couldn't shake this anxiety that seemed to be holding him since he woke up that morning. Peter had undersold his reaction in front of Sable, but the schematics of _EXS-2808_ had deeply disturbed him. And not just because the device had a t _errible_ name.

" _I would have called it the Earth-Breaker," he thought to himself._

The device's abilities were existentially horrifying. If it were to be switched on, it's appendages would shoot deep under ground; drilling far into the city's underworld. And then there would come the rumbling and the shaking. Within moments, every building would crumble, every street would crack, and every person would die in the ensuing destruction.

" _Merry Christmas, New York…" he thought, sulking._

He was antsy to get that phone call from Sable. He wanted the device out of criminal hands as soon as possible. And then, he wanted it destroyed. The thoughts were so consuming that Peter lost track of time. He looked down to see that only one more vegetable needed cutting. He cut the tomato into thin slices, letting out a deep breath. He needed to refocus.

" _I hope the folks out there appreciate this,"_ he thought, scraping the tomato slices into his completed salad.

It was at that moment that Miles walked into the kitchen. He had a screwdriver in his hand, which he immediately placed on the table as he stood in front of Peter.

"Okay. It's official. We're down one TV," Miles shrugged.  
"Couldn't fix it, huh?"  
"Sorry, Pete. Nothing I could do."  
"It's fine," Peter nodded. "It was old. I'm pretty sure my Aunt watched the moon landing on that thing."

Miles chuckled, picking the screwdriver up off the table and strolling over to the tool chest a few feet away. As he did, the kitchen doors suddenly swung open. In walked a woman in her late thirties; she was wearing light blue scrubs and had a pleasant look on her face. She poked her head through, smiling.

"Hello? Is my son back here?" she sang.

Peter and Miles turned, both smiling. Rio Morales was a delightful woman, always brightening up the room from the moment she stepped in. Miles walked back over to her, nodding his head.

"Right here, Mom," he lifted his hand.

Rio hugged her son, smiling like they hadn't seen each other in days. The two then spiraled off into usual Mother/Son talk.  
"How was your day?"  
"Good."  
"Did anything happen?"  
"No."  
"Are you feeling okay?"  
"Yes, Mom!"

Peter watched their small talk unfold and couldn't help but laugh at their back and forth. He found it all incredibly charming. But he also felt an unpleasant feeling rising within him. A feeling of longing for that kind of parental relationship again. However, he did his best to push that grief away; unhappy that witnessing such a sweet moment could turn his mood so sour.

"And Peter," she said, walking up to the table. "How have you been?"  
"Not bad, Rio. One day at a time, you know?"  
"Yeah, I hear you. Merry Christmas Eve, by the way!"  
"Yes, you too," he replied. "How are things at the hospital?"  
"Not too bad. Though, I'm happy not being on call for the next two days. Especially when I have to cook for about 20 people tomorrow."  
"Yikes! Twenty people, huh?"  
"It's not a pretty sight," Miles interjected. "My cousins attack a turkey like vultures. It's… haunting, really."

Peter shook his head, smirking at the thought. He continued work on the salad, pouring it out into a tin tray as he listened to Rio and Miles talk more about their annual Christmas party. He enjoyed hearing about the traditions, the food, the relatives…

"Oh, that reminds me! Peter, did Miles ask you about tomorrow?"  
"Yeah, he did," Peter replied, scratching the back of his head. "It's really nice of you to invite me."  
"Why wouldn't we?" Rio said with a smile. "After all you've done for Miles this year. I mean, bringing him to F.E.A.S.T., helping him with his studies…" she paused. "Peter, Miles and I have had a tough year but… You made it easier to carry on. We owe you at least a home cooked meal."

Peter appreciated everything that Rio was saying. Since Jefferson Davis gave his life on that dark day at City Hall, Peter has tried desperately to help Miles and Rio through their grieving period. But that wasn't an easy task. Especially with him and Miles constantly lying to Rio so that they could do "training" in the city. A part of him also felt guilty for involving Miles into his secret life at all. Although he loved having a partner out in the field, Peter knew that Miles was endangering his life with every second they spent together. Even worse, Peter knew deep down that he was grooming Miles to be his replacement someday. Putting that much on a kid isn't very altruistic… And so, Peter's skin began to crawl at the thought of this woman inviting him into her home for a holiday, completely unaware of the danger he put her son into on a daily basis.

"Thanks, Rio," he muttered back. "I really… really do appreciate that. But… I am working that night so-…"  
"I know. Miles told me," she pursed her lips. "But, if you have time to stop by… we would love to have you."  
"Yeah," Miles cut in again. "Plus, you can meet my uncle Aaron."  
"Is that the Uncle with the motorcycle?"  
Miles nods. "Yep! He said he's gonna give it to me when I turn 18."  
"And I believe I said, over my dead body!" Rio quipped.  
"Come on! Mom, they're not that dangerous!"  
"I'm not having this argument again, Miles!"

Peter laughed, taking a step backward to lean against the kitchen counter. As he placed his hands down on the wood, he suddenly felt a vibration on his fingers. He glanced to his left to see that his phone was now vibrating. The screen was lighting up, showing an unknown number. Peter's eyes widened. He grabbed the phone, looking up to Miles and Rio with a panicked expression.

"Sorry! Got to take this!"

Peter gave the two a small wave and then dashed into the hallway. He made his way to the back wall before swiping his finger across the phone, answering the anonymous call.

"Hello," he said, putting the phone close to his ear.  
"Spider-Man," the familiar accent spoke to him. "I have learned more about the weapons auction."  
"Lay it on me."  
"From what I have read, the event is being held in one of Foswell's homes in Upstate New York."  
"You mean one of his mansions?" Peter replied, before groaning. "God, I hate how he has multiple mansions!"  
"Yes, well… Apparently the event is being hosted from 8 PM to 11PM. And, from what I've researched, he's treating the auction as a _Holiday Gala._ "  
"You're kidding, right?"  
"The invitation asks you to choose your dinner option and specifies 'black-tie' as the dress code at the bottom of the page."  
"Ugh! This is what happens when you let the one percent host your illegal weapons deals."  
"I have chosen aliases for the two of us to take on for the event… I have a personality file that you need to memorize, and I have taken the liberty to pick out an outfit for you."  
"An outfit? What did you just… walk into _Men's Wearhouse_ and buy me a suit? How did you even know my measurements?"  
"Spider-Man," she sighed. "Please focus."  
"Sorry. Just… curious, I guess."  
"The party begins at 8, so I want you to meet me at 6oclock sharp!"  
"Alright. Meet you where? Another invisible boat?"  
"No. I have a hotel room."  
"Wow," Peter mumbled. "that is way less cool."  
"I will message you the address."  
"Okay, sounds good."

Peter let out a sigh of relief as the conversation came to a close. He was thankful to have a lead on the device's whereabouts. The sooner they got it out of dangerous hands, the better.

"And Spider-Man, one more thing."  
"Yeah, Sable?"  
"Will your sidekick be joining us tonight."  
"Sidekick?"  
"The other Spider-Man."  
"Oh, him. Well, uh…"  
"I do not have an alibi for him to join us at the event. But he might be useful if he could stake out the surrounding area. Be our watch and warn us of incoming trouble."  
"Yeah, well," he stuttered. "Actually, my _sidekick_ is uh… a little on the young side. I'd actually prefer we kept him out of this. You know… I don't think he's ready to take on an army's worth of drunk criminals. I think it's best we keep him out of the loop on this one. For his sake. You know what I mean?"  
"Not particularly. But it is your call, Spider-Man. Do what you think is right."  
"Thanks, Sable."  
"I sent you my address and room number. Remember. Six sharp."  
"Okay, thanks, Sable! And uh… Merry Christmas-!"

There is a clicking sound. She has hung up.

"…Eve," Peter mumbled out. He then let out a soft breath before sliding his phone into his pocket. He walked back towards the kitchen, only to see Miles walking towards him in the hallway. Miles walked up beside Peter, glancing over at him.

"What was that about?" Miles asked.  
"What do you mean?"  
"Oh, come on. You had _the look_ on your face."  
"Miles, what in god's name is _the look_?"  
"It's your Spider-Man face!" he answered. "You get all serious and panicky whenever it's a Spider-Man related call. Anything going on?"

The last thing Peter wanted to do was tell Miles the truth. But he wasn't sure why. Before yesterday, Peter had allowed Miles to tag along on every assignment with him; big or small. Even if he wasn't sure that Miles was up for the task, he never excluded him from being there. And he certainly didn't lie to Miles. If Peter thought a supervillain was too strong or a case was too complicated for Miles, he would calmly explain the situation to him and allow the kid to help in a supportive, but less active, capacity. But this time… This time was different. Peter suddenly felt that putting Miles in any kind of risk was too much. Suddenly, he felt stupid for ever wrapping Miles up in this world. And there was no way he was going to let anything bad happen to him. Especially during this time of year. This will be Rio's second Christmas without Jefferson; Peter will not allow it to be her first Christmas without Miles.

Peter gave Miles a reassuring grin, placing one hand on his arm.

"It's no big deal, man," he explained. "Detective DeWolff called. Apparently, she got a lead that someone is gonna hit a jewelry store tonight. She wants me to stake out the place and call her if anyone drops by."  
"Huh, sounds like a slow night. Do you need me to come with?"  
"For this? Nah! Besides, you should help your mom get ready for that party tomorrow."  
"She does need the extra hands," he agreed. Miles paused, scanning Peter's face for any change in expression.  
"Are you sure you don't need help tonight?" Miles pushed.  
"I'm sure," Peter nodded. "Could you help me right now and start serving our guests some salad?"  
"Yeah. You got it, Pete," Miles nodded before returning to the kitchen.

Peter took in a long breath, scratching the back of his head.

" _This is gonna be a long night…"_


	5. Pregame

**5\. PREGAME**

 **New York City, New York. December 24** **th** **, 2019 – 6:00 PM.**

Peter was standing in the hallway of the 50th floor of the _Four Seasons Hotel_ , a backpack slung over his shoulder.He had given his name at the front desk and, without any further questioning, the manager handed him his own key card and directed him to room 5007. It was strange meeting Sable in such a normal place. The last time they had teamed up, Sable had parked a boat on the coast that had state-of-the-art tech on board. Now they were meeting up in a hotel suite. Peter theorized that maybe Silver's access to _Sable International's_ tech and resources was not as solid as it had been a year ago. From what he had read, many of Sable's finest scientists and soldiers were ordered to stay, indefinitely, on the frontlines of the Symkarian war. Which, to Peter, raised the question of why Sable bothered to make the trip out to New York. She could have called Peter about the device and left him to deal with the problem himself. But instead, she abandoned her post and flew there to take care of it personally.

" _Why would she leave the rebel forces when they are so close to turning the tide?"_

Once again, Peter had to clear his mind of intrusive thoughts for now. He walked up to the door of room 5007, flashed his key card in front of the sensor, and heard a snap as the door unlocked. He let himself inside, walking in slowly. He took a cursory glance at his surroundings. The room was beautiful… very spacious with breathtaking paintings on every wall, and every piece of furniture looked shiny and expensive. Peter walked into what appeared to be a living room area. To his right was another room, he assumed to be the master bedroom, that was blocked off by thick, sliding blinds. From behind the blinds, he could hear footsteps.

"Sable?" he called out.  
"In the bedroom," Silver's voice called back. "Still getting dressed."  
"Ah, okay," Peter nodded. "Impressed I made it on time?"  
"Yes, I'm thrilled," she scoffed. "Your personality file is on the coffee table and your outfit is hanging in the closet!"

Peter nodded, glancing over at the coffee table to see exactly that. Two folders were laid out. He walked over, laid his backpack onto the table, and picked his file up, looking down to see a collection of details about his persona for the night.

 _ **Name:**_ _Nicholas Lewis Jr.  
_ _ **Alias:**_ _Lucky Lewis  
_ _ **Age:**_ _28  
_ _ **Career:**_ _Lewis served as "the brains" of the Irish, non-maggia crime family, "The Masters."  
_ _ **Current Location:**_ _Unknown._

This all sounded familiar to Peter. He then remembered a handful of times that he had gotten involved in some of _The Masters'_ dirty dealings. He also recalled that The Masters and The Big Man did not get along… at all! And yet, he invited their operations guy to the Gala. Peter surmised that maybe Foswell was trying to bury the hatchet with an old rival… but the answer was more likely that he saw some extra cash coming in from violent Irishman buying up some of his arsenal.

Peter quickly read through the rest of Lewis's information, nodding along as he took in the guy's life story. He then opened up to the last page to see a picture of Lewis. Peter raised an eyebrow. Peter and Lewis looked nothing alike. Sure, they both had brown hair and hazel eyes, but other than that… Peter sighed, remembering that he did not have to convince anyone of his identity except for the guards outside of Foswell's estate. Once he was in… He could go about the party without having to speak to anyone who might out his identity. Hell, The Big Man always saw working with Lewis's crime family as beneath him so… there was a pretty good chance that Foswell had no idea what Nicholas looked like either.

Peter placed the file back down on the coffee table, hoping that he'd be able to remember all the relevant details of Lewis's life in case something came up. He then looked to the right of the coffee table, seeing Sable's profile. He picked it up and started reading.

 _ **Name:**_ _Lorina Dodson  
_ _ **Alias:**_ _The White Rabbit  
_ _ **Age:**_ _33  
_ _ **Career:**_ _Multi-Millionaire with ties to criminal empires all across Europe.  
_ _ **Current Location:**_ _Indian Ocean_

Peter couldn't help but chuckle as he read through the files of Sable's persona for the night. Unlike his profile, which had him playing as a mob stooge with very little reach, Sable was going to be taking on the persona of a full-on supervillain. Dodson was a prolific figure in Europe's criminal underworld, literally controlling multiple crime families and seedy organizations at a time. However, she was once again a good choice for tricking Foswell and his men. For all his boasting about colluding with foreign markets and his insistence on inviting them to his events… The Big Man did not have good relations with any of the figureheads of European crime. Except maybe for the Russians and Latvarians. Yes, Peter foresaw a positive outcome to tonight, with both Sable and him being able to get into the party without issue and then getting Foswell to basically hand the device over to them. It seemed easy now… which worried Peter a bit.

" _If the old Parker luck has taught me anything," he thought. "It's that nothing ever stays easy for long."_

"Parker!" Silver called from the next room. "Have your read your profile?"  
"Yeah, I got it. Read yours too! Are you sure neither of these people are going to show up to the event?"  
"Positive!" She replied. "Lewis hasn't been seen for the last two years. He fled the country after the Maggia put a hit out on him."  
"Huh, so much for _Lucky Lewis._ What about White Rabbit?"  
"She is currently living on a private cruise ship and using it to sail around the world."  
"Yeah… I read in the case file that she was born from money," he groans. "Money is so wasted on the wealthy."  
"Get changed! I want us to be ready to leave when the limo arrives!"  
"Limo? Are we going to prom?" he joked. "Because I did not bring you a corsage…"  
"Just get dressed!"

Peter threw his hands up, following Sable's orders once again. He walked up to the nearby closet and opened it to find his outfit. He looked over the suit with a puzzled look. And then he squinted his eyes as he held a pair of suspenders in his hand.

"Suspenders? You got me suspenders?"  
"Yes! Just put them on."  
"Do I have to? I'm not ninety years old here," he retorted. "And you also got me a belt? How loose are these pants? Do they really need the extra help to stay up?!"  
"Just put on the damn clothes!" she yelled back.  
"Alright, alright…" he grumbled.

Peter undressed right there; folding up his street clothes and placing them on the couch. He then began slipping on his suit for the night. Despite the suspenders, it was actually a very nice-looking outfit. He first slipped on a tight fitting, white dress shirt. He noticed that the sleeves were extremely long and mentally cursed. He decided to make the best of it and rolled the sleeves up to just below his elbows. It didn't look too fancy, but it did make his forearms look good. The rest of the suit included tan pants that matched the tan vest and jacket. Ever the minimalist, Peter put the vest on and left the jacket on the side. He also disregarded the suspenders entirely and only wore the belt instead. Finally, the whole thing came together with a dark blue tie that worked well against the white shirt and tan vest. Peter glanced at himself in the mirror and, though it didn't look too dressy, he didn't hate how it made him look. But, knowing he probably should look semi presentable for the gala, he promised himself to take the jacket with him and keep it on for the entire night. The last thing to do was to slip on the pair of shiny, black Italian shoes that Sable had picked out for him. He slipped them on and was impressed at how comfortable they felt. He grabbed the jacket, draping it over one of his arms as he walked into the center of the living room, stretching out his other arm as he waited for Sable.

"Alright, ready when you are, Sable. I am dressed for a night of rubbing elbows with scumbags," he quipped, pacing around the room.  
"As am I," she replied.

The door to the master bedroom opened and out walked Sable, ready for the evening. It would be cliché to say that Peter's jaw dropped, but it would also be accurate. Sable's long hair was done in curls that reached half way down her back. Her eyes were outlined by a dark, smoky-eye makeup that made the blue in her irises stand out more prominently. Her lips were made to look more full with the addition of a crimson lipstick that was perfectly applied. Around her neck was a thick, expensive looking necklace made of silver that sat proudly just above her chest. She wore a white dress that was held up by a single wide strap that wrapped around her left shoulder. The dress sank down to the floor, with one long slit on the right side that made her leg visible. This is what led Peter to noticing her shoes which were a silver pair of modest three-foot heels. Peter took in the entire sight, a dumb smile on his face.

"Wow," he babbled. "Sable, you look great!"  
"I know," she answered casually. "Now please stop staring."  
"Sorry, it's just… I mean, you look like a princess!"  
"Parker… I _am_ a princess."  
"Right!" Peter replies, letting out a small laugh. "I forgot. I'm standing in the presence of literal royalty. Oh, crap… should I have bowed when I came in here?"  
"We do not do that in Symkaria so… you're fine. For now," she said in a cold tone, but with a smirk creeping on her face. "You rolled up your sleeves."  
"Oh, yeah. Sorry, but they were a little bit long. We don't really have time to get a new shirt so I thought I would just wear the jacket for the ni-."  
"It looks good," she interjected.  
"Oh… Uh, thank you!"  
"Your hair is a mess though."  
"Yeah. I'll be honest, there is not really much I can do about that. My hair care is not up to par."  
Sable rolled her eyes.  
"Why does that not surprise me?" she shook her head. "Sit in that chair. I will fix it for you."  
"You're not going to cut anything, right?"  
"No," she answered quickly, "But I will if you don't sit down right now."  
"Noted."

Peter walked over to said chair and took a seat. Sable went into her bedroom and emerged a few minutes later with a bottle of hairspray, some hair gel, and what appeared to be a collection of combs in a small bag. She stood in front of Peter and pulled out one of her brushes. She began to scrape at his hair, trying to manage his curls and cowlicks.

"Ow… Ow!" he yipped, as the brush ran down his scalp; pulling at his mess of hair.  
"Does that really hurt, Parker?" She questioned. "I've seen you get knocked through walls."  
"I'll have you know that my tolerance for pain is ever fluctuating."

Sable raised an eyebrow, looking him in the eyes for a moment before going back to fixing his mane. There was a few moments of silence before Peter decided to try small talk with Sable once again… _Something that has always gone so well before!_

"So…" he cleared his throat. "You know, this weapon's auction is shaping up to be the fanciest party I've ever been to."  
"Really?" Sable said passively.  
"Well, yeah. I mean, the last time I went to something you could consider even remotely "fancy" was my friend Eddie's wedding. And… he had a hotdog buffet."  
Sable smirked at the anecdote.  
"Sounds like quality cuisine to me."  
"Oh, it was. So much so that MJ and I barely had time to dance after the main course… Because we had gotten food poisoning by the end of the main course."  
"Sounds like a great time," she shook her head. "I'm assuming MJ is Mary Jane Watson."  
"Yeah," he nodded. "She was pretty cool that day. Even after we got sick, she insisted on enjoying herself the rest of the night."  
"Yes, she is a tenacious woman."  
"And… you'd know?" 

Sable gave him a small nod. Peter paused for a moment, but then put the pieces together.

"Right! You met her in Symkaria."  
"Yes," she replied. "Well, technically I met her when she jumped off of Norman Osborn's roof."  
"Yeah, sorry about that."  
"Ancient history," she nodded. "We met officially while she was on assignment in my country. She would often sniff around my bases of operations, talk to my men, talk to the innocents in the city… sometimes she would even follow us out into battle, taking accounts of every shot fired… and every person that gave their life."  
"She's fearless," he whispered. "No wonder I was constantly worried about her."  
"You and me both," she admitted. "But she never needed my help."  
"Yeah. She's… amazing."

There was a long pause. The silence was deafening. Peter bit his lower lip, looking down at the ground. Sable's expression was still for a moment, until she spoke again.

"She talked about you."  
Peter looked up, a spark in his eyes.  
"She did?"  
"Constantly. She made it sound as if you two were going to be married once she got home."  
"Yeah," Peter whispered, going silent again.  
"But… you are not."  
"Well," he stuttered, unsure of how to speak of this. "I did- _We did_ plan on that… sometimes, but I- um…"

Peter shook his head again, hesitant to speak any further on the subject. Silver brought her hands down, no longer working on his hair as she gave him a sympathetic look.

"I'm sorry. You probably don't want to hear any of this. I-."  
"Parker," she interrupted. "It is alright. If there is something you have to say-."  
"It's just a long story."  
"We have time."

There was another few moments of complete silence, before Peter spoke again.

"When she got back, everything changed. Her reports and essays and articles about your country they… They made her a sensation overnight. Suddenly, she was going to a bunch of different places and going away for long stretches of time. And…" he paused, swallowing. "I wish I could say it was her career that broke us apart but… It was me. She proposed to me, and I said no."

Sable's usual tough expression was tempered for now; in its place was a look of pure empathy. Peter was surprised to see it. But his face did not reflect this… his lips still moping as he explained further.

"I don't know. When she asked, it just made it crystal clear to me that our relationship wasn't going to make it. She deserved a guy who could follow her around the world… and that isn't me," he shrugged, letting out a small breath.

Sable looked at him, identifying with everything he was saying. She placed her hand on his shoulder; doing what she would consider comforting him to the best of her ability. A few more moments went by and Peter perked back up, shaking his head as he tried to get them back on track.

"Well, that brought down the mood," he let out a small chuckle. "Do you maybe wanna finish my hair?"

Silver faked a small smile, standing up straight and continuing to work on his hair, using the gel and spray to keep it in place as she styled it into a neat looking side part. Peter took in a deep breath before speaking again.

"So, what about you? Any guys or gals in your life?" he asked.  
"I'd rather not share," she replied.  
"Hey," he looked up at her, tilting his head to the side. "I did mine. You do yours."

Silver bit her tongue, rolling her eyes at the man again. But she supposed she owed him for prying into his life first.

"Nothing permanent," she admitted. "Just… temporary companionship. Nothing more."  
"Sounds lonely."  
"Sometimes," she sighed. "But… that is our lot in life."  
"What do you mean by _our_?"

She looked him in the eyes, raising both eyebrows.

"I mean, people like you and me, Parker."  
"I don't follow."  
"I think you do," she whispers. "Parker, you and I are a lot alike. We are warriors. We throw ourselves into danger for the sake of those who can't do what we can. Sometimes, we even do it for those who don't appreciate or like us. We do this because… despite all logic and in defiance of our natural instincts… we lay our lives down for others. Always. That's why you said no to Mary Jane, and that's why I refuse to let anyone get too close. Because deep down, we both know… people like us, don't get happy endings."

Peter sat in stunned silence at her explanation, unsure of what to say in response. He settled on shaking his head, looking to the side.

"I don't know… I think that's reading a bit too much into it."  
"Parker, be honest with me. Do you really imagine any kind of future in which someone asks for help… and you ignore them? Is there any scenario in which you put a wife, or a family, or a job… over being Spider-Man?"

Peter thought for a moment, biting his lower lip. His expression was a mix of acceptance at what she was saying, and anger at her for saying it. He took in a long, long breath to try and calm down.

"Let's just… drop this for now, Sable. Maybe focus on the mission." 

Sable nodded, her eyes closing for a moment. A part of her felt horrible for saying it, but she knew deep down that it was what Peter needed to hear. She opened her eyes to give him another false smile.

"I agree. Focus on the mission."

Sable finished up his new hairstyle, before walking off to the kitchen to wash her hands of all the gunk from the hair products. Peter sat up from his chair and got a glance of himself in the mirror. If he wasn't in such a sour mood, he would be able to enjoy how nice he looked. He decided it was best to table those emotions for now though, seeing as how he still had a long night ahead. As Sable was walking back from the kitchen, she looked down at the kitchen table to see that her phone was buzzing.

"Our ride is here," she walked up to Peter, appearing behind him in the mirror. "Are you ready?"

Peter turned, a serious expression on his face for a moment; but that quickly turned to confident resolution.

"Absolutely," he proclaimed.  
"Good. Now, in case things go wrong… Did you bring-?"  
"Way ahead of you!"

He walked passed her and to the center of the living room. He picked his backpack off of the table. He unzipped the main compartment, reached inside, and pulled out his Spider-Man mask for Sable to see with her own eyes.

"Good. Let's get going," Silver said with a confident smile.


	6. Showtime

**6\. SHOWTIME**

 **Buffalo, New York. December 24** **th** **, 2019 – 8:00 PM.**

The limo took a hard right and made its way onto a narrow path that cut straight through the forest. Peter could see that there was a line of expensive looking cars stretching for miles both in front of and behind them. It was almost intimidating just how many criminals were showing up to this event. He then looked far into the distance to see their common destination. _Foswell Manor_ was an estate that covered several acres of land. Peter didn't know much about architecture, but even he could tell that the mansion was built long, long ago. And yet, you almost couldn't tell once you entered through the gates and saw the abundance of gaudy-looking Christmas lights and fake holiday trees wrapped in tinsel. Not to mention the abundance of security checkpoints and cameras planted all over the estate.

" _How does someone so rich have such terrible taste," Peter thought as he glanced at the various decorations along the path._

As the two got closer to the house Peter turned to Sable, who was sitting directly across from him. She had her hands folded on her lap with her legs crossed, her posture being the exact opposite of Peter's relaxed position in his seat.

"So, are you ready to be a criminal, Sable?" he asked.  
"I believe so."  
"Are you sure? Don't forget, you're not just playing any ordinary mob boss," he noted. "You're playing the _White Rabbit._ The most powerful woman in England. Well, besides the Queen, I guess."  
"I think I have a handle on it."  
"I don't know. She is British after all. How are you gonna pass that off with your accent?"

Sable squinted her eyes, giving Peter a small smirk.

"Shame on you, Mr. Parker," Sable said, putting on the most convincing change of tone and accent Peter had ever heard. In seconds, she sounded like a charming, posh woman straight out of Mother England.

"Once again, you gravely underestimate my abilities," she concluded in her faux accent.

Peter's eyes went wide, a smile creeping on his face.

"Oh my god! That was amazing," he guffawed. "You can just do that on command?"  
"You pick up a lot of interesting tricks in my line of work."  
"Wow," he shook his head. "Wait, Lewis is Irish! Should I be doing an accent too?"  
"Can you?"  
"Sure," he paused, shrugging his shoulders. _"Oh, hello… I'm Lucky Lewis! Laddy! Leprechaun! Potatoes! …Innit…"_ Peter babbled out in a terrible attempt at an accent.

Sable stared at him, amusement and embarrassment both washing over her face as she stared down her partner.

"Okay, well…" she swallowed. "Lewis was raised in Staten Island so… I think you can go without the Irish dialect."  
"Okay, good to know."  
"Also," she added. "For the sake of all of Ireland's dignity… I have to ask that you never attempt that accent again, for as long as you live."  
"That bad, huh?"  
"I found it deeply offensive."  
"Fair enough," Peter sat back in his chair, smirking. "Worst part is, I am 50% Irish."

Sable shook her head, wearing a smile that almost looked as if she was stifling a laugh. That is when the car suddenly stopped. Peter looked out the window to see that they had parked outside the main doors of the mansion. He looked back to Sable, a resolute expression on his face.

"Okay, are you ready for this?"  
"Absolutely," Sable nodded.  
"Good then. Ladies, first," he smirked again.

Sable pursed her lips, reaching for the door handle and letting herself out of the limo. Peter followed suit, stepping out on his side and slamming the door behind him. Sable let one hand glide down her dress to smooth it back out, while Peter grabbed the sides of his jacket and pulled at them to straighten his suit out. He then walked around the car and stopped right beside Sable. He bent his elbow in front of her. Following his lead, she wrapped her arm around his. The two, now linked, began their walk up the large steps that led to the mansion's main entrance. Peter noticed, as they were walking, that Sable was pushing up close against him; occasionally bringing up her other hand to place higher on his arm, almost embracing him. Peter thought the extra contact was strange… but did not mind it all that much. Eventually, the two noticed that they were coming upon a large security checkpoint. Peter leaned in close to Sable, whispering in her ear. Sable smiled, keeping up the appearance that they were casually conversing.

"You don't have any weapons on you, right?"  
"No. I left my pistols in the limo," she answered. "We have nothing to worry about."  
"Good. It looks like Foswell isn't putting up with any troublemakers tonight. Every person hiding a weapon is being turned upside down and having their stuff confiscated."

Predictably, Peter and Sable make it to the checkpoint and are both properly patted down. Although, Sable is frisked a lot less severely then Peter is. When it is over, the two enter inside the main hall, linking arms once again. Peter turns to Sable, his eyes wide.

"That was way too much touching for my taste," he quipped. "I think that guy was feeling me up way more than necessary."  
"Well, Foswell is probably very paranoid with so many degenerates around. He probably ordered each guard to do an extensive search of every guest."  
"Yes. Or… that guard was attracted to me…" Peter joked, looking over to her. She raised an eyebrow, her lips slanted.  
"What? That's not hard to believe!" he joked again, a defensive lilt in his voice.

Sable sighed, but once again smiled at Peter's teasing. Peter noticed this and looked forward with a proud air. She was warming up to him, he could tell. The two then finally came upon the ballroom. It was undoubtedly the largest room in the house, and definitely the most impressive thing on the property. The layout of the room was amazing! There was a second floor that wrapped around the room like one long balcony and a large main floor that seemed to be as long as, if not longer than, the size of a football field. At the end of the ballroom there was a large stage in which a podium stood front and center. To the side of the podium was a Christmas tree that reached all the way to the ceiling, and Peter noticed that garland was wrapped around random structures all over the room. He also noticed a bar that stretched around the right-hand corner of the ballroom, which was currently being hounded by guests demanding various liquors. The last thing Peter noticed about the room was the 150+ tables that were spread out all over, and just how many of those tables were filled with criminals.

Peter started to shake a bit; his eyes subtly darting from person to person as he noticed just how many of these guys he had fought, and thwarted, during his nine-year career as Spider-Man. He started sweating and noticed an uneasiness in his stride as the two walked down the stairs and into the ballroom. He then felt four smooth digits intertwine with his. Sable had noticed his distress and reached over, holding his hand in hers.

"Are you okay, Parker?" she whispered.  
"Uh, y-yeah," he stuttered. "It's just… My spider-sense is kind of going insane right now."  
"Spider… sense?"  
"It's this power I have. It detects when I'm in immediate danger. Sometimes, if I'm in a dangerous spot it'll give me this… humming anxiety."  
"Can you turn it off?"  
"Eventually. I just need to get used to the space."  
"Sounds simple enough."  
"Easy for you to say," Peter laughed. "None of these guys have ever shot at you."  
"I suppose," Sable nodded. "But I've shot at you and you seem comfortable with me."  
"I suppose," Peter retorted. He then looked down at her hand. "Especially now."

Sable gave him a puzzled look, but then looked down at their hands as well. There was a pause before she let her hand slip away and pulled her arm back completely. She closed her eyes for a moment, and when she reopened them, she had a stoic look on her face. She looked forward, beginning to walk faster.

"Let's find Foswell. Now," she ordered, power walking into the sea of people.  
"Yeah, right…" Peter replied, letting out a soft breath. He followed close behind her.

The two made their way through the crowds of hardened criminals. Eventually, the two noticed a man standing in the center of a large circle. With the way everyone seemed to be flocked around him, the two could tell in an instant that they had found their man, and he was standing just a few feet from them. _The Big Man of Crime_ stood at 5'7", somewhat chunky from, what you could tell, used to be muscle. Foswell was pale with bleach blonde hair and dark brown eyes. He was wearing a mustard yellow suit with a white shirt; the collar was unbuttoned and seemed to be popped out a bit. He was laughing at the time, with a drink in one hand while the other rested comfortably in his pocket. He was surrounded by other big-time crime bosses who were all vying for his respect and attention. Peter had never seen so many underworld tough guys be such unapologetic kiss-asses. The two were close enough to hear the bile that Foswell was spouting at loud volumes.

"And then I said," he foretold, heckling like a hyena. "Sorry you can't be there, Fisk! Maybe you can come to my next one… Right after you finish your life sentence!"

The end of the story was met with uproarious laughter from Foswell and his peanut gallery. Peter and Sable rolled their eyes, before looking at each other in agreed disgust. Foswell then raised his glass, waving his hand at the group.

"But in all seriousness… In all seriousness, guys," he cleared his throat. "Let's drink for our fallen brothers. Fisk, Hammerhead, Silvermane… These are the men who made this city great. And it's a damn shame they're all gonna rot in some padded cell. But hey! Silver lining… More city for us!" The men around him cheer. "To the future of New York!"

"The future of New York!" came the voices of rowdy criminals before they each took their shot. Foswell, included; who took one last drink from his glass before placing it on the table closest to him. He then looked forward. That is when he locked eyes with Sable, and a wide grin appeared on his face. He wiped his mouth and made his way towards her. Sable fell right into her persona, while Peter curled his fist upon the Big Man's approach. He walked up to the two, one hand still deep in his pocket, while the other hand pointed toward Sable.

"Correct me if I'm wrong," he smirked. "But, am I currently face to face with _The White Rabbit?_ I'd assume so… given the dress."

Sable offered Foswell a warm smile back, her eyes narrowed on the man as he spoke.

"Why, yes," she spoke in her British impersonation. "You are. And you must be _The Big Man_ himself."  
"Foswell," he reached his hand forward, taking hers and planting a small kiss on her knuckles. "Fredrick Foswell," he continued. "And I am honored to have you."  
"Why, thank you!" she gave him a happy smile.

Peter's face was a mix of shock, horror, and amazement. Although he was horrified by how Sable was acting, he couldn't help but be impressed at her ability to slip into character so quick and easily. She had adequately convinced Foswell that he wasn't a slimy jerk.

"I gotta say, Ms. Dodson," he spoke, happily. "When I heard that you had responded to my RSVP, I became terribly starstruck. I have been following your career for years."  
"Yes, I have been rather… busy this decade."  
"I'd imagine," he snickered. "I hope you're more flexible on time now though. I really would like to do business with you sometime."  
"Oh?"  
"Well, of course. The only way powerful people, people like us… The only way we stay in power is if we help each other out," he explained, leaning closer. "You get what I'm saying?"

Foswell infringed on the space between the two. Sable stayed completely still, nodding along with what he was saying. Just then, Peter loudly cleared his throat, standing just a few feet from where the two were talking. Foswell turned his head, giving Peter a side-grin.

"I'm sorry," he giggled. "You didn't introduce me to your friend. What was your name exactly?"  
"Nicholas," Peter snapped, speaking in a lower tone than usual. "Nicholas Lewis Jr."

Sable's eyebrows raised as she heard the tone come out of Peter, unaware that his voice could sound so deep and so… adult. She didn't expect it. But she now knew that Peter was going to do well with his persona.

"Nicholas Lewis Jr." Foswell repeated. "Yes! From _the Masters._ I'm sorry… I completely forgot your family was attending."  
"Yeah," Peter replied, coldly. "That doesn't surprise me."  
"Now, what do you mean by that?"  
"Come on, Foswell," Peter snapped, summoning a false, but mighty, outrage. "You and I both know what you think of my family. You see us as the dirt beneath your boot!"  
"Oh, Nicholas. No!" he shook his head. "Don't bring up old wounds. Look, I know your father and I had our differences but… I was hoping tonight would make up for that. That's why I sent invitations to your whole family! I wish to bury the hatchet."  
"How about I bury a hatchet into your head!?" Peter raised his voice, moving in closer.

Foswell immediately backed away, putting both hands up with a look of surrender. Sable then cut in between the two of them, placing one hand on Peter's chest.

"Okaaay…" She smirked, looking over at Foswell. "I'm sorry about that. He's had a few drinks tonight." Sable then looked over at Peter, glaring at him. "He forgets himself." She gives him a look, prompting him to cool his act a little. Peter replies with a small nod, letting her know…

" _Message received. I'll tone it down."_

Sable then stepped back into her spot, letting Peter reclaim his space as he let out a calming breath. He then looked at Foswell with a regretful face.

"She's right. I'm sorry," he nods. "Thank you so much for the invitation."  
"It's alright, Lewis," he nods back. "I know these last few years haven't been easy for you. I heard you had to flee from the Maggia."  
"Yeah, that was a rough time. All that traveling. And hiding."  
"Well, it's a good thing that you are back home," Silver cut in, smiling at him.

Peter smiled back. He then noticed that Foswell was glancing between the two of them, a confused look on his face.

"I'm sorry… how do you two know each other, exactly?" he asked.  
"Oh, well," Sable swallowed, then gave him a simple answer. "He's my bodyguard for the night."  
"Yes," Peter nodded. "She's… paying me to…guard her. To guard her body!"  
"Yes, Lewis," Foswell replied. "I know what a bodyguard is."

There was a few moments of awkward silence between the three before Foswell finally excused himself.

"Well, I hope you two enjoy the event. And I hope you're both planning on bidding tonight."  
"Maybe," Peter shrugged. "If you got good stuff."  
"Oh, trust me," Foswell smiled. "This year's lots are killer."

After one final remark for them to _enjoy their night,_ Foswell was off, disappearing back into the crowd of people. Sable and Peter both let out a relieved sigh, looking to the other.

"So, the rest of the Masters family is here? Should I be worried?"  
"That family is big enough that Foswell won't be able to keep track of who is who," Sable explained. "Just in case though, try not to talk to anyone else for the remainder of the event.  
"Will do."  
"Also, try not to pick anymore fights!" she said, letting her elbow press into his stomach.  
"What? I was playing the part!"  
"Let's just find some seats."  
"Got it. We've got a long night ahead of us before we can bid on the Earthbreaker."  
 _"Earthbreaker?"_ she queried.  
"Y- Yeah."  
"Do you have a juvenile name for everything?"  
"I wanna say no," he replied. "But… yeah."

Sable smirked, linking arms with him again and dragging him deeper into the ballroom. Eventually, the two found a table right in front of the stage. They spent the next few hours of the night talking to the other criminals sitting at their table; engaging in small talk about arms dealing and general criminal mayhem. Sable shared anecdotes from Dodson's real life; while Peter made up stories about Lewis having to eliminate members of the Maggia. Though the two were not criminals, they had between them more than enough experience with those personalities that they could parrot their exact attitudes. Eventually, each table was served dinner. It was around the tail-end of their meal that Foswell announced the beginning of the auction.

The first few items went up for auction, which Peter and Sable ignored at first, before thinking to cast early bids so that no one around them would get suspicious. The first few lots were pretty standard armaments. Bulletproof armor, pistols, rifles, and barrels of ammunition. Also, one salvaged _Sable International_ jetpack. The appearance of which, made Silver grind her teeth with anger. The lots were slowly getting bigger and bigger. Finally, after selling a rather horrifying crate of C4 off to a Russian mafioso, Foswell announced that dessert was starting. But, before serving the plates of flan and cookies to his guest, he assured them that the last prize was going to be really worthwhile. Peter and Sable gave each other a knowing glance, preparing for their time to step in. The two waited in anticipation, picking at their dessert as they awaited the lot they came here for.

As Peter lifted a spoonful of flan up to his mouth, he suddenly felt it again. His spider sense was going off. But it wasn't like before. This wasn't because of his overall environment, as that feeling had subsided by now. No… this was because of someone specific. Peter dropped his spoon, jerking his head to the right to see a man standing all the way in the back of the ballroom. Because of the distance between them, Peter could not make out any specific features about the man other than the fact he was wearing a white t-shirt and light blue-ish pants. He could also make out the guy's posture, watching as he had one hand firmly on the wall, and his head was darting back and forth as he watched the other party guests. Peter watched his movements carefully, instantly recognizing a dangerous presence, even with a room full of distractions. The man then dashed away, disappearing into the nearby hallway. Peter turned to Silver, a worried expression on his face.

"Sable," he whispered. "I just saw this really sketchy guy leave the room."  
"Yes," Sable nodded, an eyebrow raised. "I noticed one too, Parker. We're at a criminal gala. They're literally everywhere."  
"No, I mean…" he sighed, face palming. "I mean, I saw one _specifically_ sketchy guy. He made my spider sense go off like crazy. I- I think something is going down tonight."  
"Like what?" she whispered back, getting concerned.  
"I don't know," he replied, biting his inner lip. "I think I'm gonna go sweep the perimeter. Look out for anything weird."  
"Do you want me to come with you?"  
"No. Stay here. If they call the lot, you're gonna have to win it for us."  
"Okay. But what if you get into trouble and need help?"  
"Then I'll send you a signal."  
"Like what?"  
"I don't know. How about… _Oh, god. Oh, god. Sable, help me. I'm gonna die,_ " he whispered, revealing a dry wit.  
"That works," she shrugged. "Go."

Peter gave her a wink, standing up from his chair and excusing himself from the table. He then went fast-walking down the ballroom, taking off his coat and leaving it on one of the tables as he exited into the hallway. Peter started doing a sweep around the premises; searching through multiple hallways and peeking into different rooms in the house. Eventually, he came upon the study. As he came up to the duel doors of the study, he suddenly heard footsteps from behind the wall. Someone was in there. Peter leaned in close, pressing his ear to the door as he heard someone was fast approaching. Peter's eyes narrowed and, in an attempt to trip up whoever was on the other side, he pushed the door open quickly, allowing the door to collide with the person's body and send them flying onto their ass.

"Son of a bitch!" is what Peter heard from the other side of the room, as well as a _splashing_ sound. The voice was somehow high in pitch, while also being gruff in tone. Peter pushed the door again, this time letting himself inside to see who he had knocked down. He looked to see a stubby, middle aged man in a light blue shirt, black pants, and red suspenders. Beside him was an empty glass and in the center of his shirt there was a big, red stain. He looked up at Peter with a fire in his eyes.

"You idiot! You made me spill wine on myself!" he barked.  
"I'm sorry," Peter said, extending one hand out. "Here, let me help you up."  
"I don't need your help," he said, slapping Peter's hand away. He then slowly lifted himself back up, sizing Peter up as he stood a good four feet taller than Peter.  
"But I assure you," the man continued, "You will be getting a dry-cleaning bill from me, you jerk-ass!"  
"Yeah, of course," Peter gave him an awkward smile, backing out of the room. "Sorry about that."  
"Damn right you're sorry!" He snapped. "What's your name?"  
"Oh, uh, right…" Peter cleared his throat, trying to get the deep voice back. "I'm Nicholas Lewis Jr."

The man's eyes suddenly shot open, before slowly narrowing. He was shooting daggers at Peter now.

"Nicholas Lewis... Jr. That's what your name was?"  
"Uh, yeah," he nodded, smiling again.  
"Weird," he nodded back. "Because… I'm _Nicholas Lewis Sr._ and, if I recall, my son was drowned by the Maggia two years ago!" He yelled back.  
"Oh," Peter paused. "That _is_ weird."

Lewis Sr. stared at Peter for a second. He then started fuming, and Peter could tell he was about to start yelling again. However, he only got out a loud syllable, before Peter gave him a sucker punch straight to the face. Lewis Sr. fell backwards, knocked completely unconscious. Peter caught him, looking down at him with a regretful smile.

"Sorry, dad," Peter quipped.

After promptly hiding Lewis's unconscious body in a supply closet, Peter quickly made his way back to his table. He stepped back into the ballroom, just in time to hear some good news.

"And sold!" Foswell announced. "The _EXS-2808_ goes to… Lorina Dodson! Aka, _The White Rabbit!_ "

Peter let out a sigh of relief, happy to hear some good news. He watched as Sable walked up to Foswell, receiving her prize. Foswell stepped off the stage, watching as Sable made her way over. When she arrived in front of him, he gave her a warm smile.

"Congratulations, sweetheart. Now…" Foswell's soft expression faded. He gave Sable a dead serious look. "How do I know for sure that you have the money to pay for this gizmo?"

Sable stared back at him, her expression just as intense. The two seemed to be at a stalemate, and Peter started to worry as he watched from the sidelines. But then, Foswell's expression softened again, and he started to laugh heartily. Sable smiled, not sure why he was laughing, but hoping it meant good things.

"I'm kidding, of course," Foswell shook his head, still chuckling. "I know you're good for it. You do own a majority of Europe after all."

Foswell reached into his pocket and handed Sable what appeared to be a _burner phone._ She took it from him, an eyebrow raised.

"What is this?"  
"Right, this is your first time," he nodded slowly. "Basically, how this work's is… tomorrow you're gonna get a call on that phone and someone is gonna tell you the exact location where you can pick up your lot. First, you memorize the location. Then, you destroy the phone. Then, you show up to that location with a briefcase full of… what was it? 9.8 million?" Foswell laughed. "After the transaction, we load that thing up on a truck for you and you take it off my hands. Sound good to you?" he concluded.  
"It sounds wonderful," she replied, a satisfied smile on her face. "Thank you for this opportunity, Fredrick."  
"No problem," he raised his eyebrows, grinning. "And remember, if you need anything else while you're in the US… I'll be happy to be of service."  
"I'll keep that in mind," she lied. "Merry Christmas, Mr. Foswell."  
"And a Happy New Year, bunny!"

Sable nodded and walked away from Foswell, the phone tight in her grasp. She glanced up to see Peter, showing him the phone as she continued walking. He fell in line and started walking with her.

"You did it," he said, excitedly.  
"Of course I did," she smiled. "Did you find anything?"  
"Kind of," he shrugged. "Speaking of which, we should probably leave right now."  
"Why? Wouldn't it be suspicious to leave right after getting the lot?"  
"I hear you but…" he whispered. "I just had an encounter with my father, we had words, and now he's unconscious in a closet in the study."  
"What?!" she whispered back.  
"I'll explain in the limo. Let's go!"

The two then made for the exit, their mission successful and their expressions hopeful. Then, as they approached the hallway, Peter suddenly stopped in his tracks. Sable walked a few steps, before turning back to see Peter standing in one place, his hand on his head.

"Parker?" she walked back to him. "What's wrong?"

Peter looked up, looking right past her to see a group of shadowy figures making their way inside. As they made their way towards the ballroom, a few of them tossed projectiles inside. Peter looked to his left, seeing one of them land not far from where he and Sable were standing. As the small sphere rolled against the ground, Sable and Peter heard a subtle beeping. Peter quickly grabbed Sable's arm and made a mad dash for the bar.

"Get cover now!" he shouted, as the two dashed toward the right side of the ballroom, leaping behind the bar and immediately putting their hands on their heads, ducking down. From behind their cover, they heard the sounds… loud and horrifying.

 _BANG! BANG! BANG! BAM! RATATATATATA!_

Peter and Sable could only imagine the sheer amount of carnage that was taking place behind their cover. Peter's spider sense gave him some idea of the hell that was being wrought, but not everything. For example, he could tell that about 20-30 men had just walked into the ballroom. He could also tell that they were each holding a machine gun, judging by the kinds of shots being fired into the crowd. However, Peter was not privy to the amount of smoke bombs they were firing into the crowd. Nor did he know that each of the assailants were wearing tight, black body armor, and that each one had a plain white mask slipped over their face. The masks had straight, expressionless lips and two small eye holes that were covered by black fabric. As the men spread out into the crowd, taking some criminals hostages and executing anyone who dared resist or fight back, their leader came in from behind. His mask was red, and he did not wear any body armor, instead wearing a plain white shirt with long teal pants. He looked forward, scanning the area. He looked just long enough to see the smoke clear. And that is when he spotted their target. It was Foswell, coughing and struggling on the ground. The leader nodded, and suddenly Foswell was swarmed.

Three men dragged Foswell into a back room, kicking and screaming. The leader followed close behind, watching and lightly chuckling at how he struggled in the men's grasp. Finally, the leader put a hand up, commanding them to let Foswell go. They nodded, pushing Foswell onto his knees before aiming their guns directly at him; making sure he did not stand again. Foswell looked up, his eyes wide with fear and his face red from rage.

"What the hell are you doing?!" He yelled at the leader, who was slowly approaching him. "Look, I don't know who you are! But I swear, you will pay for this! I am a very powerful man! You have no idea who you are dealing wit-!"

Foswell stopped mid-sentence. The leader had collapsed onto his knees as well, and had immediately pulled a knife on Foswell, holding it close to his throat. Foswell swallowed, looking the masked man directly in the eye.

"Now, now," the leader whispered. "Is that any way to treat an old friend?"  
"Fr- Friend?" he repeated, his eyes narrowed.  
"Come on, Fozzy! Don't tell me you forgot me already. After all… I was your best employee."

The man pulled off his mask, giving Foswell a hideously wide grin. The color drained from Foswell's face. He began to shake as he looked directly into the man's twisted gaze.

"Kasady?" he whispered.  
"Oh, Fozzy," he shook his head. "No need to be so formal. Call me Cletus."

He leaned in close to him, inching the knife towards his neck as the two maintained eye contact.

"So, listen, old friend…" Cletus said in a delighted tone. "I need your help with something. And this is really… REALLY important! So, be straight with me… okay, Fozzy?"

Foswell nodded slowly. Kasady's grin vanished. His expression was now dead serious.

"Where is the device?"


	7. The Battle of Foswell Manor

**7\. THE BATTLE OF FOSWELL MANOR**

 **Buffalo, New York. December 24** **th** **, 2019 – 10:43 PM.**

The ballroom was now crawling with the masked gunmen. They marched through the clouds of thick, white smoke that blanketed the room in a threatening fog. They had their guns aimed squarely at party guests, keeping them from attempting escape or embracing their heroic side. But they had nothing to worry about on that front. None of the criminals in the room, even the biggest and toughest of the bunch, were brave enough to try and attack the invaders. In fact, in a rather pathetic turn of events, the criminals resorted to either trembling in a fetal position, weeping and begging for their lives, or trying to make a deal with the gunmen to let them go free. It was a sorry sight to see so many _tough guys_ revert to the cowards that they truly were deep down. Lucky for them though, two real heroes were on the scene. From behind the bar, two heads looked over the wall to scope out the situation, before slinking back down into their hiding spot. Sable and Peter turned to look at each other, their backs against the wall as they sat behind the bar.

"Who are these guys?" Peter questioned in a hushed tone.

"I'm not sure," she whispered back. "More Demons?"

"I don't think so. I mean, they've got masks but… I'm noticing a distinct lack of Armani suits and laser swords."

"You're right. Probably a new threat. A terrorist group of some kind."

"Great," Peter sighs out. "So, what's the plan? How do we deal with them?"

"First thing's first. We need to secure Foswell. If they kill him, this whole night will be for nothing."

"Right. I'll go find him."

Peter went to stand up, only to be pulled back down. Sable had grabbed his tie, holding it in her grasp as she shook her head at him.

"No, you won't. Not dressed like that," she warned him. "You need to suit up first."

"Oh, yeah. That's probably a good idea."

"The limo should still be parked on the right side of the building. Go find it, get your bag, and put on your costume."

"And what about you?"

"Don't worry about me. I will deal with these gunmen."

"What? How?" he worried. "There's like fifty of them out there!"

"Please," she scoffed. "Those idiots won't stand a chance. Those smoke bombs they set off will give me the perfect cover to take them out. One by one."

"Okay, stealth is all well and good but… you don't have any weapons."

"Hmph," Sable raised an eyebrow at Peter, a coy smirk on her face. "Who said that?"

Peter was confused for a moment, before Sable suddenly reached behind her. She slipped her arm halfway down the back of her dress and then pulled something out from it. She placed her hand out in front of Peter, showing in her grasp what looked to be a small, metal rod. Sable then clicked a tiny button on the rod. Suddenly two metal poles shot out from the base. She now held in her hand a metal bo-staff; which she bared proudly while the confident smile stayed on her face. Peter's eyes were wide with awe and amusement.

"Sable," he whispered. "You're like… really cool."

"I know," she tilted her head. "Now go!"

Peter nodded, waiting until the coast was clear before jumping over the bar and making his way outside. Like Sable predicted, the fog made for the perfect cover. Within moments Peter had leaped from the wall, bounced off a support beam, and stuck to the ceiling without a single witness to his feats. He then found an air vent on the ceiling that would lend to a smooth escape to the parking area. Meanwhile, Sable was also lying in wait for the chance to jump out from her hiding place. But, unlike Peter, she was not mapping out an escape route. Instead, she was planning an assault on the gunmen. She watched in anticipation for the perfect moment to strike, clutching her staff in hand. Finally, one of the enemies walked past her hiding place, making the mistake of turning his back to the bar. Silver kicked off her heels, leaving her barefoot. She then took a deep breath, readying her weapon.

" _It's time," she thought._

Sable leaped out from the bar, dashed toward the gunman, raised her weapon, and dealt a single blow to the back of his neck; knocking him out instantly. She glanced to the left, seeing two more men standing close by. They turned as they heard the crash of their comrade hitting the ground. But before they could act, they were caught off guard by Sable jumping toward them, swiping her staff at one man's chest, while the other opponent was delivered a swift kick to the head. As he went down with the kick, the other man watched Sable twirl around and send her elbow slamming directly into his face, knocking him out as well. With three bodies down and many to go, Sable jumped into a roll, hiding behind a table. As nearby forces gathered around the unconscious bodies, Sable watched with burning intensity, formulating her next moves before disappearing into the smoke.

This pattern went on for several minutes. Silver continuously took out groups of three to five men, before using her environment to hide and select her next victims. She stalked their movements, light on her feet; creeping through the room and delivering powerful blows to each enemy. It was simultaneously scary and impressive. However, all good things must come to an end. And, after taking out a small group of men with an impressive barrage of strikes, Silver came to the end of her pouncing spree when she felt the cold, familiar barrel of a gun against her back.

"Drop the weapon," a deep voice commanded. "On your knees!"

Sable began to grind her teeth, angrily complying to her assailant. The staff clanged against the ground as she let it go. Sable then slowly dropped to one knee, looking over her shoulder with a scowl. This is when she saw that two other men were standing behind her captor, both with their weapons transfixed on her as well. It was overkill, but necessary for someone as capable as Silver.

"You are going to regret this," Sable spat.

This was met by hearty laughs from the three men, before one of them cocked his weapon.

"Yeah," the gunman chuckled. "Somehow, I doubt that."

There was a moment of silence as Sable awaited the pull of the trigger, followed by the rattling noise that would signal her death. But she was relieved to hear a much different sound come from right above her.

 _THWIP! THWIP! THWIP!_

All three men had their weapons pulled straight from their grasp. There was a moment of confusion between the men, followed by fear as a figure in red and blue landed right in front of them; first crouching, then standing between them and Sable. They started to shake as they saw the white spider symbol that covered his chest and reached behind his back. He stared them down, the white lenses narrowing as he clenched his fists. Silver stood to her feet, strolling up beside him.

"I'm sorry, guys," he jeered. "Am I late to the party?"

The three men swallowed their fear, charging the two with their fists held high. Unfortunately for them, they were no match for the two. As quickly as their onslaught began, it ended. Spider-Man and Silver Sable were too fast for the trio. When the three men were down, webbing now sticking them to the floor, Spidey glanced to Sable with his white-eyes fully dilated.

"Did you miss me?" he asked.

"Hardly," she teased. "I was handling it. For the most part."

"Well, I _did_ notice large piles of unconscious bodies when I came in. Guessing that was you."

"You guess right," she nodded. "Unfortunately, there are still several gunmen left."

"Well then… I bet these will come in handy."

Sable raised an eyebrow at Spidey, who proceeded to reach behind him. He seemed to be grabbing something that he had hooked to his belt. He then held it to Silver. An eager smirk pulled at her lips as she looked down to see her dual pistols. She took them from him, holding them like they were her own, extremely violent, children. She stared back at him, her eyes softening.

"Thank you."

"You can thank me by not dying," he retorted.

"Oh, shut up!"

Sable came close to laughing, immediately recognizing that her own words were being used against her. She could no longer tell if she found this kind of back-and-forth annoying or charming. Or both. But there was no time to dwell on that now. Just as the two were settling down, another group of gunmen appeared from the smoke, spotting our heroes. Spider-Man flexed his fingers, readying himself for the oncoming battle. He turned to Sable, who was already priming her weapons.

"You ready, partner?" he asked.

"I am," she replied, staring daggers at their opponents. "But they're not."

And so, it began. The two charged their assailants; bringing on a hail of gunfire that covered the room in deafening _booms_ and _bangs._ Of course, none of them managed to hit the duo. Spider-Man had superhuman reflexes, while Silver Sable had been dodging machine gunfire since she was a preteen. The men had no chance of hitting the two, especially when they felt their weapons pulled from or knocked out of their grasp one by one. Then came the pain. The two began their flurry of swift, calculated, and collaborative strikes against their opponents. They moved in sweet synchronicity, leaving no room for error as they knocked each challenger to the ground. From an outsider's perspective, it almost looked like the two were dancing. If said dancing was based around the goal of knocking the teeth out of a terrorist's mouth. In time, the two had taken down every foe in the ballroom. The last man standing was unfortunate enough to get a kick to the gut from Sable, promptly followed by a strand of web attaching to his face. He felt himself jerk downward as Peter pulled on the webbing, sending the enemy flying face-first into the hard ground. With their combined efforts, they had won just as the smoke began to clear. The ballroom was now covered in webs, pistol ammo, and unconscious bodies. Now seeing that the threat was no more, the party guests quickly bolted from the room; gathering by the doors in large panicky clumps. Some of them glared at Spider-Man, begrudgingly accepting him as their savior for the night. As the crowds pushed around them, Spidey and Silver turned to each other again.

"Okay. What now?"

"Now we make sure that Foswell is alive," she explained.

"I don't see him though. Could they have taken him somewhere?"

"I don't know," she paused, walking away from Peter. "Hold on."

Sable then made her way to one of the few conscious gunmen who was webbed against a large column. She walked up to him, kneeling in front of him as he struggled to get free of the web.

"Where is _The Big Man?_ " she asked.

"I ain't telling you $#*%, lady!"

Sable closed her eyes, taking a deep breath in through her nose and out through her mouth. She then opened them, smiling sweetly. This was immediately followed by her gun pushing up against the man's forehead.

"WHERE IS FOSWELL?!" she bellowed.

"The kitchen! THE KITCHEN!" he yelled back.

Sable grinned, lowering her gun and rising back to her feet. She did an about face, running passed Peter, who was standing there with one of his white eyes narrowed.

"Come on! Kitchen!" she repeated.

"Yeah, no. I heard him, crazy," he chuckled, following close behind her.

The two made their way out of the ballroom and into a hallway. As they peeked into each room, they eventually came across an open door. From inside, they could hear two voices arguing back and forth. They peeked inside, seeing Foswell sitting on a stool while a man threatened him with a knife. To their left and right were two more men with machine guns. As the two got closer, Peter encouraged Sable to stay back, reminding her that she was still _The White Rabbit_ in Foswell's eyes; meaning that interfering now might blow her cover. Silver begrudgingly agreed, taking a few steps back and allowing Peter to continue through the door. Without hesitating, Peter burst through the threshold and immediately shot two web streams right at the guards, snatching their guns. Spider-Man had gotten _really_ good at snatching guns over the past nine years. Both guns were pulled into his grasp, his hands lingering in the air as he showed off his "yoinking" skills.

"Sorry boys," he joked. "But you'll have to get these back after class."

Just then, he noticed the man in the center jerk forward. In one swift movement, the man was now behind Foswell, holding the knife close to his throat as his wild eyes stared the hero down.

"One more step forward and I slit _The Big Man_ from ear to ear!" he yelled.

Peter's eyes shot open. His grip on the weapons loosened, letting them fall at his feet. Even with the mask on, it was clear that Spider-Man was struck by surprise at seeing the red-haired mastermind behind this attack.

"Kasady?!" he blurted out.

"Aww, that's so sweet," Kasady giggled. "You remembered me!"

How could he forget? The last time Peter saw those crazy eyes staring back at him, the man was strapped to a bomb in the middle of the United Nations Building. All these months, Peter prayed that Kasady had left town after escaping with the other Raft inmates. But he knew deep down that that was too good to be true.

"What are you doing here?"

"Just catching up with an old friend! Ain't that right, Fozzy?"

Foswell's eyes darted up to Kasady, hatred beaming from his expression.

"Old friend?" Peter repeated.

"Oh! You didn't know? I used to work for _The Big Man_ here. In fact, I was one of his best employees," Cletus smiled, taking pride in the story. "You see, Foswell had me on retainer as one of his contract killers. He would give me a name, I'd kill somebody, _usually innocent_ , and then I would get large sums of money! Jokes on you though, Fozzy. I would have done it for free."

"You're a psychopath," Foswell snapped.

"Heh heh. Yep!" Kasady nodded, glancing down at him.

"Didn't really know friends were your style," Peter continued, trying to keep him talking. "The strike force is new."

"Ah, yes!" Kasady beamed. "I see you've met my boys. You know, they were just a ragtag group of anarchists when I met 'em. They had a lot of spirit, a lot of materials, and a burning hatred for polite society. Good group of guys! All they really needed was some leadership."

"And, let me guess, you took them under your wing," Peter said, scornfully.

"What can I say? I always wanted to be a father. And nothing fills my heart with more glee than watching a hundred angry nihilists take up arms for the total collapse of civilization."

Kasady laughed again. Peter could not believe what he was hearing. Cletus Kasady had a militia of men following his sadistic orders. The idea shook Peter to his very core.

"Now, Spidey… it was great catching up but, if you don't mind, Fredrick was just telling me where my lot is."

"Your lot?" Spider-Man asked with a worried dip in his voice.

"My lot. The _EXS-2808,_ " Kasady nodded. "Foswell is holding out on me though. Aren't you?"

He looked down at Foswell, shaking his head while making a _"tsk, tsk, tsk"_ sound.

"If you wanted it… you should have just bid on it!" Foswell retorted.

"Or… you could do a friend a solid and just give it to me as a present!"

"What do you want with that device?" Peter asked.

"I want to make the perfect milkshake," Cletus replied, sarcastically. "What do you think, Spider-Moron!? I want to raise some hell."

"Kasady! No!" Peter yelled, sternly. "You have no idea what that thing could do. Turning it on for even a second would kill thousands of people and send the entire island plummeting into the ocean!"

"Whoa," Kasady tilted his head. "Threaten me with a good time!"

"You're a lunatic!" Peter shouted.

"Yeah. Says the guy in the red and blue onesie," He scoffed, turning to his guard on the right. "Speaking of which, do one of you idiots want to shoot him sometime?!"

That was when Peter noticed the two guards reach for the pistols that were resting in holsters on their belts. Within seconds, the two men drew their weapons and started unloading in Peter's general direction. He leaped out of the way, giving Kasady ample opportunity to leave the kitchen and go barreling into the hallway with his hostage. Peter than made quick work of the two men, first disarming them before taking them both out with a swift punch and kick combo. Just then, Sable ran into the room to see what was going on. Explanations were quick as the two were set to chase Kasady down and collect Foswell.

"I'll follow him. You try to cut him off!" Peter explained.

"Right," Sable agreed.

The two took off in different directions. As Peter swung down various hallways of the vast estate, he eventually found a door swung wide open. The door led to the stairway. Spider-Man zipped into the room, immediately hearing struggling noises from above him. He started to climb his way up the floors, eventually seeing Kasady holding Foswell firmly in his grasp. Despite having to grapple with a hostage, Kasady had managed to make it up to the sixth-floor stair case. Which, for a mansion, was considerably high up. Almost fifty feet. He pulled himself onto the same level as them, staring down Kasady as he held Foswell tightly.

"It's over, Cletus! Hand him over!" Peter commanded, hunched over the stair railing.

"Hmm," Kasady paused, thinking for a second. "Yeah, okay."

There was a moment of silence, Foswell and Peter waiting in anticipation for the madman's next move. They then got their answer in the worst way, as Cletus reeled back and pushed Foswell over the railing; allowing him to free fall in the space between the stairs. Peter's eyes went wide and he instinctively leapt from his railing, shooting a strand of webbing to catch himself just as his arm wrapped around Foswell. The two landed softly on the ground as the web slowly recoiled. Peter could hear Kasady laughing as he bolted up the stairs by himself, seemingly headed for the roof. Spider-Man gazed up at the stair case, allowing Foswell to fall out of his grasp and hit the floor. Foswell sat on the ground, looking up at Spider-Man with wide eyes.

"You saved me," he grumbled.

"Yeah," Peter glanced down. "I'm not thrilled about it either. Toodles!"

Spider-Man then jumped from a standstill, managing to catch serious air as he rose back up the stair case and towards the rooftop doors. Foswell stood up hastily, rushing back into the hallway; his feet high stepping as he tried to leave the premises as quickly as possible. Suddenly, he was stopped, turning the corner only to bump into a confused-looking man. He backed up a few feet, staring at the guy who was currently holding the side of his face while sporting a big black-eye.

"What did I miss?" said Nicholas Lewis Sr, groggily.

"I'll tell you later! We have to go!" Foswell said, grabbing the man's arm and pulling him towards an exit.

On the roof of the mansion there sat a black chopper; its blades spinning rapidly as it waited for the package to arrive. But how surprised the pilot was to see his fearless leader run onto the roof without a _Big Man_ in sight. Cletus sprinted toward the helicopter, jumping into the cockpit to greet his getaway driver.

"Where's Foswell?" he asked

"Relax! We won't need him. I've got a plan B!"

"But- what is-?"

"JUST GO! Spider-Man is here!"

The pilot nodded and began the process to lift their machine off the roof. Just as the vehicle began hovering, Spider-Man burst through the stairway door. Cletus noticed this, mentally cursing as his eyes rolled to the back of his head. He then slipped out of the cockpit and sauntered onto the main deck. He pulled the door open, holding a rather large gun in his left hand, while his right hand held firmly onto the door-handle. He aimed the weapon at Spider-Man, looking determined.

"Smile, you son of a-!" Cletus shouted, before suddenly flinching in pain. His gun had been forced out of his grasp. But not by Spider-Man.

As Peter had seen a burst of light that had broken Cletus's gun in two, and sent it flying from his hand, he turned to his left to see Silver Sable standing in a dynamic pose. Her hand was extended outward with a smoking gun in her grasp. She ran up to Spider-Man, standing beside him as the two watched the helicopter slowly attempt to take off. This was it. Their chance to bag the final win of the night.

"We've got him now," Peter shouted over the noisy hum of the chopper's engine.

"Take him down!" Sable commanded.

"With pleasure!"

Two webs shot out from Spider-Man's wrists, holding the helicopter back as it tried, in vain, to escape. Cletus looked over the scene with mild disappointment, gesturing to Peter's webs.

"Oh, look at that. For f# sake!" Cletus shook his head.

Kasady then reached into his pocket, pulling out what looked to be a small device with a large button on top; almost like a stopwatch. He leaned over the edge, giving Peter a half smile.

"You know, Spidey!" he yelled down. "I was gonna save this for after we got a bit farther away but… I guess now is as good a time as any, right?!"

The two were confused for a moment, unsure of what he was referring to. But then, it slowly dawned on Peter. The device in his hand that he now waved around so casually. Could it be…?

" _Earlier… When I saw him skulking around… Touching random walls… Oh no."_

He let go of the webs holding back the chopper. A realization had hit him like a truck. It was the same method Kasady had used during their last confrontation. A way to make sure that there were no loose ends. He had planted explosives all over the mansion. And that device in his hand… it was a detonator.

"He planted bombs!" Peter shouted.

"Merry Christmas, ya filthy animals!" Kasady shouted.

Kasady clicked the button on the detonator. Peter, without any regard for himself leapt forward. In one swift movement, he scooped Sable into his arms. He lunged into a full sprint, heading toward the edge of the building. He leaped off the roof, jumping almost forty feet from the mansion; aiming for the forests that surrounded the area. As he did, he threw Sable forward, his mind quickly formulating a plan to save her life. He shot a series of well-placed webs onto a nearby tree, predicting the exact spot in which she would land. When Sable finally lost air and plummeted to the ground, she was quickly caught by the bed of webs Peter had hurriedly made for her. Just like clockwork, Peter's last-minute plan was executed without fault. Sable was safe and sound and far from the house before the bombs could go off. Peter, on the other hand, was not so lucky. He did not get the brunt of the explosion; nor was his skin singed from the ball of fire that burst forward. But he was pushed by the blast, sending him plummeting for the forest ground. Spider-Man crashed right through a tree, cracking the thin trunk into two pieces. He then felt his body scrape against the dirt and rocks, before stopping suddenly as his back crashed against a mighty oak. He was now propped against the tree in a sitting position. His arms and legs were sprawled out against the tree's jutting roots. His suit was covered in dirt with several rips now present in the fabric. His mask now had one cracked lens, which he guessed had been damaged when his head hit the floor during his barreling trip into the forest. There were also plenty of scrapes, slashes, and bruises that appeared after Peter's big fumble. And so, The Amazing Spider-Man sat there in the mud for a few moments, allowing the intense pain to wash over his body.

" _Oh god," he thought. "This is the worst. This could not feel any worse."_

Peter then slowly lifted his head, letting out a few short breaths. He then noticed a very distressing sight. That being the sight of a helicopter, safely taking off; not even slightly rattled from the explosion. Beneath the helicopter was the burning inferno that was once _Foswell Manor._ Peter watched the blaze with unbridled anger towards himself and Kasady. He then looked to see the chopper get farther and farther away, escaping his grasp.

" _Never mind. That feels so much worse!"_

As he laid there, wallowing in his broken pride and broken bones, Sable finally made her way down from her safe bedding in the tree. She ran over to Peter, concern and fear on her face as she kneeled down next to him. Her hand touched his shoulder as her lip quivered in worry.

"Parker! Are you okay?"

There was a moment of silence. Followed by two light coughs from Peter. He looked up at her, his head resting against the tree behind him.

"Well," he croaked out. "My ribs might be broken. But my spirits are high."

A wave of relief fell over Sable.

"I've never been so happy to hear one of your stupid jokes," she admitted.

"Hey," he chuckled, while letting out a small cough. "Those stupid jokes are my main schtick. Show some respect."

Silver smiled, placing her hand onto his cheek.

"That'll do, hero."


	8. Commiseration

**8\. COMMISERATION**

 **Queens, New York. December 25** **th** **, 2019 – 12:21 AM.**

There was quiet. For the first time in several hours, Peter was off of his feet. More specifically, he was in bed, trying desperately to relax after his rather _eventful_ attendance of the Big Man's gala. On one hand, he was happy to be laying down. Peter couldn't remember the last time he had just laid back and decompressed after a long and grueling mission. But he knew exactly why that was. Normally, Peter would not allow himself to take a break. He knew that if it wasn't for his body demanding sleep every once in a while, he would probably never take off his web shooters. Crime didn't take a break, so neither did he.

But fortunately for him, the decision was not in his hands tonight. No. That honor had gone to Miss Silver Sablinova: the woman who fought by Peter's side, loaded his broken body into a limo, and brought him straight home to act as a temporary nurse. She took great care of him, barking orders to lie still and bandaging up multiple wounds on his torso. Unlike the last time she had carried him from a battle, Peter's injuries were far less severe. When he asserted that she take him back to his apartment, she listened. She trusted that this time he wouldn't need a doctor. How did she know? Because he was still making jokes while she carried his broken form out of the forest.

" _What a clown," she thought to herself, bemused._

But, minor injuries or not, Silver still maintained that her partner should take it easy for the rest of the night, much to his irritation.

"I'm really fine," he argued. "You don't have to worry about me."

"Don't have to worry?" she repeated, dryly. "I just saw you get rag-dolled by an explosion that you were three feet from. I saw your face bang against a boulder and your spine collide with a redwood. You are not _fine._ "

Peter opened his mouth to argue, but then looked down at himself. And suddenly, he had no argument. Even if he didn't hurt anymore, he still didn't look great. Though his back was straight, being propped up against the wall by a couple of pillows, the rest of his body was completely limp. He laid there, wearing only the red and blue pants from his costume. The gloves, the boots, the shirt, and the mask had all been removed and placed on his desk. He knew that, come tomorrow, he would have to sew up the rips and tares that had been made in the suit during his fall. He looked to his bare chest and saw it was covered in various tapes and bandages. They had been stuck to him to hide the cuts and soak up the blood. He also saw the bruises. _Oh, and how many bruises there were!_ His limbs felt like jelly, lying motionless on the sheets with only the occasional twitch. Still though, he swore up and down that he could still move. He just "didn't feel like it." Sable did not buy what he was selling. It didn't matter that the cuts would not bear scars, or that the bruises would disappear the next morning. And it didn't matter that Peter was no longer in any pain… Sure, his body was tired but, if he had to, he knew he could stand up and dance around the room like that old man from the _Willy Wonka_ movie.

And yet, Sable would not let him lift a finger. Why? Because, for all of her icy stares and cold disposition… Silver cared. And Peter could tell. So, he stayed in bed, resting his head against the wall as Sable stood beside him. She was still wearing the white dress, the jewelry, and the makeup. And she still had her hair all done up nice for the soiree. Peter was somewhat jealous.

" _How come I never look that good after a fight?"_ _he thought, humoring himself._

Sable was re-packing Peter's first aid kit. It had come in handy for his wounds, but she believed that Peter could sleep the remainder of his ills away. She glanced over at him, seeing the big black and blue spot just above his left eye.

" _He could have died back there. He could have died saving me," she thought, far back in the reaches of her mind. "He keeps doing that."_

She pulled a chair from Peter's desk, pushing it beside his bed and sitting down. She sat back in her seat, going a bit limp herself as she took in a well-deserved breath.

"Post-Gala depression?" Peter queried.

"I'm not sure that that is a term."

"I was joking."

"Still?" she criticized with a slight grin.

"Don't judge. I gotta laugh about these things. Otherwise, what's even the point of almost dying in a fiery explosion?"

Sable could not argue with his logic. Mostly because she did not understand it. Another smile was shared between the two, only to be followed by a sullen silence. Sable cleared her throat, falling back into serious, general mode. A face of pensive coldness returned to her. Although, Peter noticed it was not as solid as it had been before. He noticed more cracks in her stern expressions as they got to know each other better.

"So, tell me more about this Cletus Kasady. Who is he?" she asked, bluntly.

"How much time you got?" he joked again, but it was not followed by any smiles this time.

"Cletus Kasady is a psychopath," Peter continued. "He is an arsonist, an explosives expert, a thief, a contract killer, a serial killer, a terrorist… When it comes to mass death and destruction, he's a jack of all trades. First time I ever met him he had a bomb strapped to his chest. The next time, he had planted explosives in Time Square and was gonna set them off at midnight on New Year's Eve. Then there was the time he tried to get possession of a decommissioned nuclear bomb."

"For what purpose?"

"Death," Peter whispered, grimly. "That's all he wants. He wants to cause mass genocide. He worships it. And now, he has an entire troop of likeminded crazies behind him."

"You sound worried," she whispered back.

"You have no idea. He's one of the most dangerous criminals I've ever come across and he doesn't even have superpowers. If he gets that device… This whole city is as good as gone."

Peter's grim speech was unusual to Sable, but also comforting. Knowing that Peter saw the unthinkable gravity of the situation put Silver into a strange sort of ease. Her partner may have been a clown, but he knew when to reel in the jokes for the sake of his city. She then wondered how well the two would work together if they stopped underestimating each other. She then leaned forward, crossing her arms as she stared Peter down. Her expression softened a tad, while still maintaining a steely, determined gaze.

"He won't get the device," she proclaimed.

"How are you so sure?"

"Because," she rationalized, reaching her free hand out towards his desk. "We still have this."

Sable showed him the small burner phone that she had won with the lot.

"Kasady does not know where the device is. And thanks to us, Foswell was kept secure and the lot did not fall into dangerous hands. Tomorrow, Foswell will call us on this phone and give us a destination. We will collect the device, we will dismantle it, and your city will be safe."

"And what if Kasady finds out?" he muttered. "What if he shows up?"

"Then we will stop him. Together."

A new air seemed to blanket Silver in that moment. Peter could feel it emanating off of her and it was so opposite from her usual nature that he felt caught off guard. _She was optimistic._ It was an unexpected change in attitude, but also very appreciated. Peter had finally let his hope go for a few moments, and Sable was there to immediately pick up the pieces. A smile pulled at his lips, and she reciprocated.

"That is," she now continued, returning to a dry tone, "If you'll be able to fight by tomorrow."

"For the last time, I will!" he repeated, rolling his eyes. "I heal very fast. Not as fast as _muttonchops,_ but still pretty quick."

Sable tilted her head to the side, her silver hair falling off of her shoulders.

"Muttonchops?" she parroted.

"Oh, yeah," he shrugged. "It's what I call Wolverine. You know, the guy from the X-Men. I've worked with him a couple times."

"I see," she nodded along. "So, you give all of your friends juvenile nicknames too?"

Peter snickered, noticing a playful (but clearly judgmental) look run across Sable's face.

"No!" he said, defensively. "I also give them to my enemies."

"You're kidding, right?" she asked.

"Nope!"

"So, what do you call Electro?"

"Lightning-Butt," he responded, simply.

Her following look was so disapproving that Peter imagined her eyes had almost rolled back into her head.

"What about the Vulture?" she asked.

"I call him the Buzzard."

"Captain America?"

"Captain Tight-Pants!"

"Rhino?"

"Shell-Head."

"The Fantastic Four?"

"I just call them _Squad Goals_ ," he said, shamelessly.

"Ugh," she scoffed, her disgust unfathomable. "You would."

Peter shrugged again, a goofy grin on his face. Sable then gave him a curious look.

"And what about me?" she asked. "Do I have a silly name?"

"Well," Peter paused, unsure of how to explain. "Occasionally, I do refer to you as… _strange, violent lady._ "

Sable stared at him for a moment, a grimace painting her expression. Peter felt a punch was fast approaching. But then…

"Well, I suppose that's not inaccurate," Sable replied.

Her grudge blossomed into a smile, as a small laugh escaped her lips. Peter was beaming as he watched her. She found her composure soon after, dropping the laughter. Though she kept the smirk.

"Did I just make you laugh?" he asked, bewildered and proud.

"Yes," she answered calmly. "But I implore you not to dwell on it."

"Too late. My day is made. I got you to laugh!"

"Yes. Truly a miracle."

"It is! You've never laughed at my other jokes."

"Correct," she nodded. "But that is only because you're not very funny."

Peter placed a hand to his chest and reeled himself backward with a faux-offended look. Sable looked proud at her biting words.

"Sablinova, you better take that back."

"Or else what? You'll quip me to death."

"I may just!" he boasted.

The two shared a laugh this time. It was short-lived, but it was hearty and genuine. For just a moment, the two warriors had joked like normal people. And, unlike before, Silver did not bother to harden her temperament again. In fact, she decided to remain open with Peter for a little while longer. Her smile withstood as the two were met with another lapse in conversation. She let the moment sit before speaking again.

"I never thanked you," she admitted.

"For what exactly?"

"You saved my life tonight. Twice, in fact. If I am counting right, I think that makes three times you put yourself into danger for me."

"You don't have to keep count," Peter replied. "Besides, you've saved my life like, a half a dozen times."

"I've also been the direct cause of it being in danger," she retorted. "I feel as if I keep failing you, when all you've done is stand by me."

"Failed me?" he repeated. "Are you nuts?"

Peter looked at her with disbelief. Her eyes were faced downward, darting up for only a moment to glance at him. Peter let out a sigh.

"Sable, every time I work with you, we're unstoppable. You think on your feet, you're passionate about doing the right thing, you're a _hell_ of a fighter, and you and I have this… natural flow," he stopped, looking downward as well. "Honestly, I have worked with a lot of people. A lot of amazing, powerful people. But I don't think I've ever been as in sync with someone as I am with you. So, even when I am put into danger, I'm never worried when you're around. Because I know you have my back. You make a killer partner, Silver."

Peter looked back up, only to be greeted by the soft gaze of Sable's bright blue eyes. He couldn't tell if she was smiling anymore. She looked more taken aback than anything. She then let some air escape her nostrils as she leaned forward in her chair, placing her arms onto her knees.

"I thought about you in Symkaria," she uttered slowly and cautiously.

"You did?" he replied, legitimate surprise in his voice.

"Yes. When I would fight alone. It was different when I had my men with me, or if I was defending innocents. But when I was fighting alone, with no one to protect but myself… I thought of you. I thought of my fights against you and with you… working close by your side to beat Martin Li and Hammerhead. I would think… _Wouldn't it be nice to have him here right now?_ "

Peter listened intently, hanging on every word. As he listened, he thought about how their relationship had evolved in such a short time. From animosity, to a begrudging partnership, to a genuine respect, and finally coming to… whatever this was. Friendship, perhaps.

"Thank you for telling me that," he whispered back.

"You're welcome," she nodded. "And thank you."

A final glad expression was shared between the two, as they could both feel the excitement of the night starting to wear down. Peter had finally slunk downward into a slightly more comfortable position; though his head still stayed off the pillow. Sable was now looking antsy, ready to walk out Peter's front door and officially call this a semi-successful night. Peter then watched her struggle back into her "business voice" again.

"Well, there is work to be done tomorrow," Sable tried to deliver coldly. "You should get your rest now."

"Yeah. I suggest you do the same," he recommended.

"Good then. I will contact you in the morning."

"And I'll be eagerly waiting by the phone," he teased.

Sable bit her bottom lip, shaking her head slightly.

"Right then," she chuckled. "Goodnight, Parker.

"Goodnight," he responded. "And hey, thanks for getting me home okay and patching me up."

"What else are partners for?" she spoke softly.

Peter chuckled at the sentiment, while showing his agreement by placing out one hand in front of her. He held it out with his arm bent downward, almost like he was asking her to arm wrestle.

"Got that right, partner," he grinned.

Sable took his hand without missing a beat. There was a moment of calm appreciation between the two, before Sable leaned forward. She engaged him in what could only be called a _bro-hug_ (in layman's terms anyway). She wrapped her other hand behind his shoulder and gave it two quick pats, while her body pressed gingerly against his. She had done this once before, but it had been in the interest of tracking him that time. Now, she did as a sign of kinship, respect, and… something else.

"Right, partner," she whispered back, close to his ear.

A strange and foreign feeling than washed over the two. Peter felt it in an instant when he noticed how the half-hug seemed to overstay its usual allotted time. Peter and Sable lingered, both keeping their grounds for a few moments. Than, Peter felt it. A light peck at his cheek. It had come just as Sable had started to pull back. And it had come without warning, even for her. She recoiled slowly, staring him straight on with eyes that read of confusion, but also of instinct. She saw that Peter now had a small, crimson lipstick mark adorning his cheek. Their hands fell from each other, but their bodies stayed close; Sable still leaning over the bed with her other hand on Peter' shoulder. Their eye contact did not waver. Nor did they question what was about to happen. Questioning what they were feeling in this moment would negate all the work that had been done to make it here in the first place. All the walls that the two had torn down. The secrets, the feelings, the laughter… to see that all buried again would go against what they had made so far. And so, they did not question it any further. And when Peter leaned forward, Sable did too. And when he pressed his lips to hers, she reciprocated; letting her hand fall behind his neck.

And there it was. All of the walls and barriers between them were knocked down. Granted, Sable knew deep down that she would have to build them all back up eventually. She knew that after the night had ended and the two had come to their senses, that she would have to regain the ground on him that she was going to give him tonight… But she saved all those thoughts for later. For now, she would trust him like he trusted her. And when she was on the bed, on top of him, kissing him as her arms wrapped completely around his neck and his hands held her hips tenderly, she managed to finally accept all that he was.

"Peter," was the last word she spoke to him that night, and she delivered it in a dreamy moan between kisses.

"Silver," was similarly said. Also, in a soft, pleasant whisper.

The chair beside them, which had been bare since Sable had crawled into the bed, was soon adorned with a white dress that had been casually tossed onto it. This was followed by a silver necklace, a pair of pants, boxers, and lingerie. They all made for a messy pile that was hanging sloppily from the chair. But neither of them noticed. For that night, Peter Parker and Silver Sablinova, two souls who were just as similar as they were complete opposites, took comfort in each other. And it was a night that neither would forget.


	9. Interlude - Just the Facts

**9\. INTERLUDE – JUST THE FACTS**

 _Allow us to take a brief intermission from our story to check up on one of New York's most furious and boisterous citizens._

 _The following is the transcript from the December 25_ _th_ _, 2019 episode of "Just the Facts: with J. Jonah Jameson." Aired at 11:30 AM._

(Cue short musical intro.)

 **Jared:** This is _Just the Facts: with J. Jonah Jameson…_ Where listeners, like you, discuss the issues affecting our city with the **two-time** Pulitzer Prize winning former publisher of the Daily Bugle. If you'd like to support the show, go to the _Just the Facts_ website and consider buying a _Just the Facts_ magnet or bumper sticker. Or perhaps one of our "Spider-Menace" t-shirts… now available in black, dark blue, light blue, and pink (for the ladies). And now, for a limited time, you can order the "WWJJJD" holiday ornament for your Christmas tree, available until January 4th!

(Pause for effect.)

 **Jameson:** Hello and a Merry Christmas morning to you all! I hope that you're all basking in that holiday cheer and enjoying your day off. I, on the other hand, will _not_ be taken the day off. For you see, my friends, evil never takes a vacation. Which is why people like me need to stay ever vigilant, lest our fair city go un-policed! Yes, I am happy to keep my ear close to the streets, working tirelessly for you people! Bringing you the whole, uncensored truth on a daily basis! And have I got some serious TRUTH to drop on you today!

Now the news channels are barely reporting on this, but yesterday, in Buffalo, there was an explosion! Now, I don't usually concern myself with the dealings of _Upstate New York_ , given that its not _really_ part of New York, but I couldn't help but to be drawn into the details of this story. A mansion owned by so called "philanthropist," Fredrick Foswell, was broken into by some gun-wielding lunatics whilst he was hosting a party for his "close friends." One thing led to another, and Foswell ended up losing his home in a fiery blast; possibly caused by C4 charges! Now, for my loyal listeners, some of you will recall that I have talked poorly of Foswell in the past. And the reason for this being that he is a LYING, PRETENTIOUS CRIMINAL that goes around calling himself "The Big Man" while he lives it up on his humongous estates, eating caviar and riding horses! And yet… he is not who I am most concerned about. Nor am I concerned with these so called "party crashers" that caused the explosion. No, I was more interested to hear the guest list for this event. Reading the invite list reveals that Foswell's "friends" were made up exclusively of crime families, crime lords, and arms dealers. I would also fashion a guess that the gunmen who showed up to his gala were probably on the guest list as well… and just had a few too many drinks. Now, Foswell surrounding himself with dangerous hombres does not surprise me. What did surprise me were the testimonies from the eye witnesses of the party. For they all claimed that, you guessed it, Spider-Man had been there to "combat" the threat and "save" the people.

For some of my more dim-witted detractors (who nevertheless decide to tune in every week) I can already hear what you're saying. "Huh, yes JJ, that sounds right! Spider-Man is a _hero,_ so it makes sense that he'd be stopping villains, right? Right!?" WRONG! Spider-Man operates in the city! You seriously think he heard about a gunfight in BUFFALO and managed to swing all the way out to the middle of the forest in mere MINUTES! NO! Spider-Man was able to arrive on the scene so quickly, because he had already been attending the party! He was there AS A GUEST because, as we have seen many times before, he has NO QUALMS about CANOODLING with CRIMINALS!

Well, Spider-Man, I hope you've already enjoyed your egg-nog and your cookies… because as soon as the police realize that you are in cahoots with the MOB, you'll be spending the rest of your holidays in a PADDED CELL!

…Anyway, we're going to commercial now. Please consider buying some of these astounding products. Thank you.

(Cue outro music.)


	10. Slice

(Note: This chapter has a slightly more intense tone than those before it. Please be advised.)

 **10\. SLICE**

 **Brooklyn, New York. December 25** **th** **, 2019 – 3:45 AM.**

Kevin Mooney lived the first thirty-five years of his life as an upstanding, law-abiding citizen of the great state of New York. He made all the right choices. He went to a Catholic boy's school from the ages of five to fourteen and then spent that next four years at a Catholic boarding school up in Virginia. He got accepted into Syracuse University and spent the next six years double majoring in Business and Mathematics; which, of the latter, he earned his master's in. Though his mother and father had wanted him to go to medical school, he assured them that it was not his calling. Especially with his intense fear of seeing blood. Little did he know, that he would some day find himself in a bloody business anyway.

It started when he was thirty-five, in the midst of climbing the ladder of the _Delmar Insurance Company._ No, that wasn't right. He wasn't _climbing_ , he was _crawling._ Crawling and scraping his way through menial tasks for the chance of becoming a department head. Hell, maybe someday they would put him on the board of directors. Sure, he had started there as _just another accountant_ , another "spreadsheet monkey," but he had a lot of ideas to help their company grow! Plus, he was taking night classes and pursuing managerial training just to be sure that he was the most qualified person for the job; if the job ever actually opened up. He kept his head down, did what was asked, and made strides to grow with the company. _Surely, they would recognize his sacrifices eventually._ _Right?_

Kevin was laid off. Fired. And just two months after his second daughter was born. He was angry and heartbroken.

 _To think I wasted ten years of my life at that place. Doing their dirty work! Embracing all of their corporate crap about "opportunity" and "growing!" Ten years slaving for them! Ten worthless years with nothing to show for it._

Kevin was ready to give up all hope. If he couldn't find another job quickly, his family would surely begin to suffer. His wife, Sarah, didn't work. And his eldest daughter was starting kindergarten soon. That, plus a new baby just arriving, meant a lot of pressure on the two parents. Those pressures tripled when he lost his job, and a divorce felt incoming as Kevin's hate turned from his unemployment onto his family. Then, like a bolt out of the blue, Mr. Foswell came to Kevin in his time of need.

Foswell had heard about Kevin and his talent for budgeting from a friend they had in common. Of course, Kevin had no idea that this friend was involved in a full-blown criminal empire. And, a few years earlier, Kevin imagined the news of his friend's true career would have appalled him. And, a few years earlier, Kevin would have looked at Foswell with a genuine disgust at his unethical business practices. But things were different after he had lost his job. Suddenly, talking with Foswell seemed like less of a deal with the devil, and more like a guardian angel giving him his second chance at happiness.

"I like you, Mr. Mooney," Foswell had said, just a few minutes after they met. "You're sharp, efficient, and you don't ask questions. Ya just keep your head down and you do the work as well as you can. I respect a man that knows his strengths."

Foswell had buttered him up. After their first meeting was over, Foswell had offered Kevin a job as his personal accountant. Right there on the spot. Kevin took it eagerly. Then, when on the job, he worked eagerly. And, when he finally learned just how illegal Foswell's business was… When he learned Foswell's real name, _The Big Man of Crime_ … When he learned how many people had been robbed, cheated, and killed because of Foswell and his men… When he realized that his employer was a monster and that he was profiting off the misery of others…

He just kept his head down and kept working.

The money was good. Good enough to keep his family stable, and then some. The work did not change either. It was all just counting and managing money, just like at Delmar. The only difference being that, instead of working with insurance claims, he was now working with counterfeit bills, weapons, and illegal drugs. Occasionally, he would see something he'd rather not have. A torture victim here, a corpse there, a contract killer skulking around…

He just kept his head down and kept working.

Foswell promised that working with him would not be a dangerous job. And, for the past twelve years, he was correct. No matter how close Kevin got to "the action," he was never dragged into any of the gory details of Foswell's criminal activity. Even when Foswell had gotten into that awful gang-war with Kingpin, Kevin never worried for the safety of him or his family. He became desensitized to his work and, in time, allowed himself to just enjoy life. The job was messy, but it was good. And it was dangerous, but he was safe.

" _What a load of crap all that was!"_ Kevin now thought to himself.

His back was bound to a chair with rope. His legs were tied down to the chair as well. His hands were stretched outward, handcuffed to a table in front of him. He tried to pull his hands from the bonds, hoping the table would come upward as he lifted the chains, but it was bolted into the cement below. As was his seat. A paper bag rested over his head, blocking his vision. A piece of black tape sealed his mouth shut. He continued to pull at his chains, wiggle under the rope, and kick wildly to free his legs from the chair; but none of it took. He was trapped. And he knew why. It was only a matter of time before his complacency to Mr. Foswell would come back to bite him. He just prayed it wouldn't bite his family as well.

"Mooney, Mooney, Mooney…" a voice bellowed. "Did you miss me, money-man? Cause I missed you!"

Suddenly, light! The paper bag was pulled off of Kevin's head. When his eyes adjusted to the harsh white light, he realized he was face to face with…

 _Oh, god. Oh, god no!_

Kasady stared back at him with piercing, wide eyes and a grin one would wear for seeing an old friend. He then felt a sharp pain as Kasady reached up and snagged the tape off his lips.

"You-!" was all Kevin could bark out.  
"Yes, me," he whispered, matter-of-factly.  
"What do you want with me?! Where am I?! What is-?!"

Kasady waved a butcher-knife near Kevin's face. He was not having it tonight. Kasady usually loved watching the hysteria of his victims but… not tonight. There was urgent business to attend to.

"You've got this backwards, Mooney," he scoffed. "I didn't kidnap _you_ so you could ask _me_ questions."  
"I- I'm sorry," Kevin pleaded. "What do you want?! I'll tell you anything!"  
"That's a good boy," Kasady smiled. "It's just one question, Mooney. And, it's a pretty simple one too. So, I want you to answer it quickly and honestly. No hesitating. No editorializing or exaggerating. Just tell me the honest, dead truth. Understand?"

Kevin nodded furiously.

"Good," Kasady beamed at him. "Now… Where is Foswell hiding that earthquake device?"  
"The what?"

There was a beat, and then Kasady brought up his other hand, grabbing Mooney's neck. He was bent fully over the table now, his face close up to Kevin's with a wild stare.

"The _EXS-2808!_ " Kasady yelled. "Where is it?!"

Kevin's eyes filled with tears. Kasady smiled again, letting go of his throat. Kevin recoiled, his back pressing against the chair as he tried in vain to pull his hands from the cuffs. But it was no good. It was only then that it finally dawned on Kevin where they were. It was an interrogation room. Kasady and his men were hiding out at an old police precinct. One that had been abandoned years ago when the police had found a larger building that better suited their needs. Now, it was home to a group built on hate and societal upheaval. As Kevin looked into Kasady's eyes, he knew at once what he wanted with that device.

 _That damn device!_

Kevin had suggested against buying that doomsday machine from the Symkarians. But Foswell was committed. Even if the machine was capable of the kind of destruction the blueprints warned about, it did not dissuade him from spinning it into the hands of the highest bidder.

"You worry too much," Foswell had said to his trusted accountant. "If it will put your mind at ease, I'll make sure the bidder who gets it is a responsible human being. Or… at least a human being who won't set it off in New York. Maybe I'll encourage those from a foreign market to take the lot. Would that make you feel better, Mooney?"

It did. And Kevin was over the moon when he saw who had won the device. An England girl. Someone who would take that damn thing far away from his family. For a moment, he considered going up to the woman and telling her just how bad of an idea turning the machine on would be. But he decided that conversation would be better suited for the next day, after the transaction had been completed; lest she pull out of their agreement at the last second. For a moment, it all seemed to be going well. That is until the _bangs_ and _booms_ started to echo in the ballroom. The room filled with smoke and there was fear. A gun was pointed toward him. Everything slowed down. Then, relief came as two figures began their dance, triumphing over the masked assailants. Spider-Man!

" _God, I love you, SPIDER-MAN!"_ he had thought. _"You save everyone. Even garbage like me."_

But Spider-Man couldn't save him. Even though he had escaped from the party and had found a ride home, Kasady was still one horrible step ahead. With Foswell out of his grasp, Kevin became Kasady's plan B. His acolytes had pulled up in a van as Kevin was inches from the front door of his house. They dragged him inside with minimal effort, knocked him out, and here he was… inches from the face of a crazy person, smelling the bourbon on his breath.

"How about this, Mooney?" Kasady breathed out, calming himself down.

He then brought one hand down, catching Kevin's arm on the table. He held it down with an immovable will, his other hand still brandishing the knife. He brought the tip of the weapon to his lips, grinning again.

"I'm going to ask you the question again," he explained. "This time… I want a direct answer. If I do not get one… If you decide to ask me another question, or lie, or hesitate, or avoid answering… I will cut one of your fingers off. I will do this as many times as I need to until you answer. Understand? I will leave your hand a bloody stump. And if you still refuse to give me my answer… I'll just move onto the next hand. And once that is done… Well, I suppose I'll have to get creative from there. So, it'd be in your best interest to just tell me where my lot is. Be straight with me, and I promise you'll be home for Christmas breakfast with your lovely girls."

Kevin was sweating. He was crying. He felt ready to vomit as he looked into the eyes of the devil. He knew Kasady was not bluffing. But he also knew that telling him the truth would put his whole family in danger. His wife, his daughters, his parents, his employer, his city… they all rested on him. He didn't know where the device was. But he knew where it would be tomorrow afternoon. And he swore to himself that he would never reveal that place to Kasady.

" _Kevin," he thought, "for once in your life… don't be complacent. Don't keep your head down. Don't just do your job and expect everything to turn out alright! Stand up to him. Lie to his face! Be a hero. Just. This. Once."_

"Where is the lot?" Kasady asked.  
"I don't know," Kevin whispered out.

Kasady was silent for a moment. Kevin's heart was beating in his ear. He expected blind rage to burst forth. But then, Kasady started to chuckle. He looked Kevin dead on with a mad glee.

"I like you, Mr. Mooney," he cackled. "But… that is the _wrong answer!_ "

 _SLICE!_

After 60 seconds… Mooney had lost one of his fingers.  
After two minutes… Mooney had lost two fingers.  
After five minutes had passed… Mooney was down four fingers and had told Kasady everything.

Kevin could not tell him were the device was _at that moment_. And that had cost him a finger. But, Kasady was giddy to hear the exact time and place where the pick-up would be. Mooney even gave Kasady the true winner's name. Kevin had spilled his guts for Kasady, letting go every detail of the trade that Foswell had afforded him. When it was all done, Kevin hated himself. But the feeling did not last long.

" _I'm sorry, girls,"_ was the last thing Mooney thought before Kasady put a permanent end to his career and got back to business.

"Thanks for the info, Kev! You've been great!" Kasady shouted over his shoulder as he exited the room. But his goodbye was not returned, as there was no living soul left in the room once he had exited.


	11. The Morning After

(Note: After a long hiatus, this story is finally being continued. Thank you for being patient and enjoy the next chapter.)

 **11\. THE MORNING AFTER**

 **Queens, New York. December 25th, 2019 - 10:00 AM.**

 _BEEB! BEEB! BEEB! BEEB!_

The alarm clock on Peter's nightstand began to cry out that awful high-toned beeping. It was the same annoying sound Peter had heard every morning since his first day of high school, as he had never bothered to replace the clock with something less grating. However, he hadn't used the damn thing in months. Being Spider-Man meant that Peter's sleep patterns were often erratic and led to very disjointed hours of slumber. He had been so busy with his duties as Spider-Man that he could never find the energy, nor forethought, to set the time on the clock before bed. Which is why it surprised him to hear the alarm this morning. His head shot up from his pillow. He sat up on the bed, somewhat disoriented. The beeping continued until Peter found the strength to reach over and hit the snooze button. This was followed by him suddenly grabbing his side. There had been a burning sensation as he leaned over to touch the clock.

 _Ow! Did I get hit by a truck last night? And why is my alarm going- ? Did May set it- or-...?_

Peter was so lost in a groggy haze that for a minute he had forgotten that he wasn't a fifteen-year-old kid, living in his Aunt's house, and waking up early for school. He shook off the old thoughts and reality came back to him as his eyes fluttered open. He looked down at himself. Covered in bandages. He was naked beneath a blanket. He licked his lips, rubbing his tired eyes as he stepped one foot out of the bed. He still felt sore. It finally came back to him; his little spill in the forests behind The Big Man's mansion. Or... former mansion. There wasn't much left of it after those charges Kasady set off.

 _Right. Kasady._

He groaned a little. Cletus Kasady was at large with his own personal militia. If there was one thing he wanted to forget, it was that. But, unfortunately, there was work to be done and a city to save. Peter stood up and slowly made his way to the mirror. He stood bare before it and took stock of his condition. He removed the bandages and cloths one by one, assessing the cuts, bruises, and scars made from the night before. As expected, most of the damage was healed. Sure, there was still some noticeable damage on his form, here and there. But, in general, the man had healed himself up quite nicely. He looked at his front for a long time, before turning his back to the mirror. He glanced over his shoulder for a moment, before raising an eyebrow. He noticed that there seemed to be scratches on his back. And he could tell the marks hadn't been made from the fall. They looked distinctly like human nails had dug downward against his back, not pushing hard enough to break skin, but enough to leave eight definable marks.

 _I don't remember those being there. I feel like Sable would have bandaged those if they had bee- Oh. Right._

A small smile appeared on Peter's face. He suddenly recalled why Sable had not bandaged those particular marks up. Because she had made them. He then looked down and noticed that his bed, and the area surrounding it, was a touch messier than he had usually kept it. He thought back to how he and Sable had shared the bed the night before. He replayed how the events unfolded and how the two of them had clearly been more *ahem*... "passionate" about each other than the two had let on. Peter's head began to race, as it often did in strange social situations, about what this meant for the two. Last night had been wonderful but, was it anything real? Did Peter even want it to be real? He couldn't discern if the night before had been empty or meaningful or just a fluke... His mind was spinning. Whatever the case though, one thing was for sure. Sable had already left before he arrived. That fact made him pause to consider that she had just as many misgivings as him. Maybe more. Peter shook his head. There was no time for this. The clock had already turned to 10:04. It was time to start the day. Peter put on a pair of blue boxers and an "Eddie's Pizza" t-shirt. He stepped outside his room, cellphone in hand, ready to call Silver. His nose was then attacked by the strong scent of something cooking.

"Good, you're finally awake," a voice came suddenly from Peter's kitchen.

Peter nearly jumped onto the ceiling as he peered at the figure standing just a few inches from him. He then relaxed as he realized... It was Sable. But she didn't look like herself at all. Her hair was up in a ponytail and she was wearing Peter's clothes: a grey shirt that said ESU and a pair of thin, grey basketball shorts. Peter stared for a moment before glancing at what she was making. There were eggs in a frying pan. He barely registered this before Sable lifted the pan off of the stove and used a spatula to scrape the eggs onto a plate with crispy toast on it. She turned off the stove, grabbed a fork from the pantry, and walked over to Peter, handing him the plate.

"Here. Eat. I surmise we have a very long day ahead of us," Sable nodded. She then grabbed the pan and put it into the sink, turning on the faucet as she scrubbed egg remains off of the pan.

"I received a text this morning," Sable explained, speaking over the sound of rushing water. "The burner phone that Foswell gave me. He sent a message to it saying that the deal was still very much on. He said that I should be expecting his call soon."

Peter listened but was still a bit flabbergasted by the sights. Not only was Sable still here, but she was wearing his clothes. And she had made him breakfast. And... had she set the alarm?

"I set your alarm this morning," she continued, putting the clean pan back into the drawer she had originally pulled it from. "I wanted to let you sleep in. You looked dreadful last night. I thought you'd appreciate the rest."

Peter remained silent. This was a first for them. Sable was doing all the talking while Peter kept his mouth shut. Sable then crossed the kitchen and sat on one of the stools set up by the kitchen counter. When she was there, she picked up a mug of what was presumably coffee and sipped from it. Peter took a few steps forward, placed his plate down on the counter, and sat beside her.

"You're wearing my clothes," he finally spoke.

"Yes, I am. You didn't expect me to wear that dress around your apartment, did you?"

"No," Peter answered. "But I didn't really expect you to still be in my apartment. Or... making me breakfast. I kinda figured you'd go back to your hotel room, decompress, maybe get some of your gear for today..."

"Oh, I did. I didn't go back to my hotel room, but I did have one of my men drop off everything I will need for tonight."

Sable motioned to the front door. Peter looked to find a large briefcase and a duffel bag leaning against the wall.

"I figured I would just stay in one spot. I prefer to be completely available when Foswell finally calls me."

"Okay, I get that," he tilts his head to the side. "And... making me breakfast?"

"I already said, you need to be well-nourished for the day," she pursed her lips. "Is there some sort of problem, Parker?"

"What? No. No, I just—I guess I really expected you to have ran out already. I'm used to you just contacting me later with the deets. You sticking around is different. So, I- I mean I'm glad you are still here. And thanks for cooking. You didn't have to but- uh…"

Sable then lifted up one hand right in front of Peter's lips, silencing him. She let out a short breath before speaking again.

"Parker, I am getting the sense that your mind is hyper-fixated on what you and I did last night."

"Well, yeah. Of course," Peter's voice trailed off at the end of his words. "I mean, we fought terrorists and the mansion blew up. That's a lot of action for uh- for one night."

"I was referring to when we had sex," Silver expressed bluntly.

"Oh, yes. That. Now that you mention it. That might have crossed my min-…"

"Stop," Sable interrupted. "Do not bother."

Peter did stop, now sitting up in his stool. He offered a half smile to Sable. It was met with a sympathetic, but troubled expression.

"Parker, I would like to clear the air with you. Last night was enjoyable. You performed well and I'm glad we could find momentary comfort with each other. But I don't find it necessary to discuss it anymore. It was a brief moment of sincerity and weakness between us but… I believe it is best that we just forget it ever happened. There is a vitally important task at hand, and it will do us no favors to constantly be ruminating on a mistake."

"Mistake?" Peter repeated, after hanging on Silver's every word.

"A sweet mistake," Sable corrected. "But a mistake all the same. There is no true connection between us, Parker. You must know that. Right?"

Peter was silent for a moment, his neutral expression impossible to read. He then swallowed, nodding with a crooked smile on his face.

"You took the words right out of my mouth," he says with a short laugh. "You and I make way better partners than we do _partners_."

Sable smiled back, seemingly happy to see that Peter understood where she was coming from.

"Thank you, Parker. I think it is important for us to make our feelings known if we are to trust each other."

"I agree," Peter bites down on his lip. He then pauses again. "On that note, can I ask you something?"

"I suppose."

"You said to me that I could never put a family or- or a life over being Spider-Man. Like, it would be impossible for me." Sable nodded along, looking concerned with where Peter was going with this. "Do you really think that? Do you really think… love and family is beyond people like us?"

Sable opened her mouth to speak, then stopped when she stuttered on her first word. She looked Peter in his eyes. He looked beaten down. Had she caused that?

"Parker…" she began.

 _KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!_

Peter looked towards the door; his eyes crinkled. Who the hell could that be? Who would be visiting on Christmas morning? Unless…

"Hey," he turned to Sable. "You didn't hire an actor to put on a Santa suit and surprise me for Christmas morning, did you?

"No. I did not. But I'll remember that for next year."

Peter chuckled. He then stood up from his stool and walked over to the door. He looked through the peephole. He was then stunned to hear the banging of a fist against his door.

 _BAM. BAM. BAM._

"Hey, Pete," a voice calls. "You home?"

Peter looked through the peephole again, this time making out the shape of Miles Morales. He wondered what Miles could be doing there, before turning back to Sable.

"Oh, it's Miles. Not sure why he's here though. I guess he-…"

Peter turned to see Sable not far behind him. She was now hunched over and there was a pistol clutched tightly in her hand. Peter could hear the _whirring_ sound that indicated the weapon was fully loaded. Peter waved his hand at her, mouth agape.

"What the hell are you doing?" he mouthed to her.

"I wasn't sure if…" she whispered, shrugging.

"Put that away, psycho. He's a friend!" He whispered back.

Peter rolled his eyes while Sable placed her gun back inside of the silver briefcase. Peter turned back to the door, opening it slightly. He looked out at Miles with a friendly grin.

"Miles, whaaa- What are you doing here?"

"Sorry to bother you. Just thought I'd stop by to say hi. And a Merry Christmas."

"Oh, well thanks. Merry Christmas to you too."

"Thanks! Thank you very much," he wiped his lip. "Oh, while I'm here, can you explain this?"

Miles then held up a newspaper from The Daily Bugle. The story on the front page: "Spider-Man Present During the Burning of the Foswell Mansion." Miles held the paper up with a judging look on his face. Peter shifted his weight, staring at the headline.

"Yes, I can explain that. _That_ is a newspaper, Miles."

"You know what I mean, Pete!" Miles whined. "Why did you keep me out of the loop on this one? I mean, you lied right to my face."

"Miles, I-…"

"No, seriously! You crashed a party where the guest list was exclusively criminals. Isn't that kind of big Spidey stuff that I should be present for? I mean, I know you want me to be friendly neighborhood but… This is getting sad now."

"Miles, please. I can't—"

"You can't? No, I can't. I can't fight super-villains! I can't stop the mob! I can't patrol without finishing my homework! I feel like all you've done since we started this is give me a bunch of rules. I'm sick of it!"

"Miles, I'm trying to help you. You need to pace yourself. You shouldn't be running headfirst into every single disaster!"

"Why? That's what you do! Pete, has it ever occurred to you that you're being a real hypocrite? Also… Who is that?" Miles finished, lifting up one finger to point behind Peter.

Peter turned around to see that Sable was now behind him, looking out at the boy in the hall with curiosity. He realized that while he was arguing with Miles, he stupidly had opened the door wide enough for Miles to look into his apartment. Peter was ready to make up some excuse to get Miles to leave without asking further questions, but before Peter could come up with an appropriate lie, Miles squeezed passed him and stepped inside.

"Miles," he warned, closing the door behind him.

"Seriously, who are you?" He asked Sable, ignoring Peter. "You look very familiar."

"Silver Sablinova," she replied, stretching her arm out to shake his. "I take it that you are Spider-Man's ward. I was wondering if I'd meet you while I was in New York."

"Ward?" Miles chuckled as she shook his hand. "I don't know if that's the right word. It's way better than sidekick though."

Miles looked over his shoulder at Peter, motioning to him with his free hand.

"So, how long have you been working with Silver Sable and when were you going to tell me?" he asked, looking slighted.

"Miles, look… It's complicated, alright?"

"Well than… uncomplicate it, Pete."

Peter than walked up beside the two, his arms crossed. He looked down at Miles, taking on the familiar appearance of an upset parent. He then took a deep breath before explaining it all to Miles. _All of it._ He explained how Silver snuck into his room, how they agreed to work together, how they infiltrated the gala, how they escaped… He even offered Miles a brief lesson on his history with Kasady and his plans for the device. There were only two details he decided to leave out from his story. Number one was why Silver had slept over the previous night and was now wearing his clothes. Miles did not need to know the logistics of that. In fact, Peter himself was still fuzzy on just how the hell it had transpired. Number two revolved around a question that Peter hoped Miles would not ask. But, of course, it was the first thing out of his mouth once the explanation was over.

"Why didn't you let me help you?" Miles asked.

"Because," he swallowed, thinking of how to express himself. "It's getting so close to Christmas and you're a kid. You should be enjoying yourself, not worrying about some super weapon."

"Are you kidding me?" Miles scoffed. "I'm angry you _didn't_ warn me about this. I mean, this EX9808-WHATEVER-THING sounds like some serious # !" he yells. "You have got to let me help you guys."

"No," said Peter.

"Alright," said Silver at the exact same time.

Peter turned to Sable suddenly. He looked confused, shocked, and irritated.

"What? Are you crazy?" he asked Silver, realizing that he normally wouldn't be bold enough to use this tone with her.

"Crazy? I've seen videos of what this boy can do. From my standpoint, he has many useful abilities and untapped potential. Though, I've noticed his fighting techniques are sloppy but with the right formal training-…"

"Ha ha! You see! She agrees with me. I should be out there with you guys. I should be helping."

"No!" He looks at Silver, his eyes narrowing. "No. He should be at home, with his family, preparing for the holiday. Period."

"But, Pete-…"

"Miles!" He snapped back. "When I offered to teach you the ropes, what was the first rule I laid down?"

"No dunking?" Miles answered smarmily, only to be met by Peter's glare. "First rule is that I follow your lead, always."

"Right. Now, if I need your help, I will call you, okay? But otherwise, I don't want you anywhere near this. Understand?"

"Yeah. Sure," Miles responded sheepishly, looking defeated. "Nice meeting you," he mumbled, looking back up at Sable.

Miles then turned around and headed for the front door. Before he left, Peter's expression softened. He did not care for the defeated posture Miles was carrying in his walk.

"Wait, Miles…" he spoke up.

"Yeah?"

"I just want you to know… I am proud of what you've done so far," Peter spoke in a softer tone than before." I really am. You're a true hero. I just think we should keep things slow. For now. Just… _friendly neighborhood_ it for a little while longer. I promise things will be different real soon. I promise you that."

Miles just smiled, giving Peter one final nod before opening the door. He said goodbye and was out of the apartment. A brief silence filled the room. The two stood there motionless for a few seconds before Peter turned to Sable.

"You've been watching videos of him?" he asked.

"Well, videos of both of you, technically. It's quite impressive how many of your exploits end up archived on video sharing sights."

"I know, right. And yet, I've never once been featured on Youtube Rewind," Peter laughed awkwardly.

"I don't know what that is."

"Of course you don't."

The two made small talk for a few more moments. However, the chit-chat was put to rest when the burner phone on the nearby table finally started to ring. Silver and Peter quickly locked eyes before rushing to the table. Silver grabbed the phone and flipped it open, immediately placing it on speaker.

"Hello?" she answered in the faux British accent.

There was silence on the other end. Nothing but white noise for several seconds. Peter held his breath. And then a deep, masculine voice finally spoke up. It clearly wasn't Foswell. Must have been one of his goons.

"12 PM. By the waterfront. Warehouse 65. Bring all the money."

Silver looked down to see that the unknown caller had immediately hung up after relaying the message. She looked up to see that Peter had quickly grabbed a pen and paper.

"Warehouse 65. 12 PM," he repeated, meeting her eyes as he looked up from the paper.

"Perfect," she smiled. "We're ending this."

The two then began discussing their plan of attack. Sable would go in alone, playing the part of The White Rabbit once again. Peter would sneak into the warehouse through a vent, just out of sight. His job was to do recon around the area and keep Sable safe while she made the drop-off. Both of them expected they might have to fight if Kasady had somehow figured out where to find the device, so they each filled their suits to the brim with weapons and gadgets to help them incase of a scuffle. The time was set, the plan was made, and the heroes were prepared for anything the day might throw at them. Anything. Except for maybe the sixteen-year-old kid that had been standing outside the front door with his ear pressed against it, listening intently for the last ten minutes.

"Warehouse 65. 12 PM," Miles whispered to himself.

 _There's no way I'm missing this._


End file.
